


What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

by guineasaurusrex



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Craig's Gang, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Romance Novel Conventions, Roommates, and all the assorted cliches, because of tweek's terrible parents i have to add, but it's south park so things are gonna get weird, tweek's gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineasaurusrex/pseuds/guineasaurusrex
Summary: For as long as he can remember, college has been the thing Tweek Tweak has looked forward to the most. Sure it's a lot of work, but it's also the only break he'll get before he takes his rightful, permanent place behind the counter of his family's coffeehouse. So when his parents abruptly demand he come back home after just one semester, Tweek knows he's going to have to do something desperate to convince them to let him stay. Desperate like trying to pass his weird, tragically aloof roommate off as the love of his life...-----Or: shamelessly cheesy post-holiday fake dating.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 139
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could explain what led up to this, but really, what's nanowrimo for if not indulging in weird writing experiments?

“Pacing around like that isn’t helping anything, Tweek.”

That was easy for Craig, seated on Token’s couch and watching Tweek’s life dissolve from a position of cool neutrality, to say. On good days Craig’s detached, rational tone was like a tether Tweek could follow back down to earth from the heights of his panic.

Today was not a good day.

“I can’t fucking help it, Craig!” Tweek flexed his hands to keep them from tugging his hair. God knew he didn’t need to give his friends any more reasons to think he was crazy. Rallying them all together at the crack of dawn the Sunday before finals week had already done enough of that. “I have to meet my dad in half an hour and there’s no way he’s going to listen to a word I have to say!”

To think, some stupid, desperate part of him had actually been excited when his dad had called that morning and asked to get breakfast while he was passing through for a business trip. Tweek had barely seen his parents since he’d started school, and for one brief, foolish instant, his heart had soared at the idea they finally wanted to visit him. He’d never dreamed his dad’s sudden arrival was going to coincide with being yanked out of college before his first semester was even over, but given how things usually went with his family, maybe he should have figured any positive attention had strings attached.

Now, with the small group of friends he’d amassed sprawled across the expensive furniture in Token's townhouse, they only had until Richard arrived in Colorado Springs to come up with a way to convince him to not cut off Tweek’s support. Tweek was already registered for his classes next semester and there was no way he’d be able to cobble together the tuition money on his own.

The second Tweek relented enough to sit down in the armchair, Jimmy passed him a notebook and a pen. “Sometimes it helps to make a list,” Jimmy said. “You know, get your thoughts organized.”

It would take a lot more than organization to persuade his parents, but Tweek nodded, appreciating the gesture all the same.

“Okay.” Token smacked a fist into his palm, taking charge of the situation as he so often did. “Let’s start with the most obvious argument. Your parents sent you here to get your Business degree, right? It doesn’t make any sense to pull you out of school before you’ve learned everything you can.”

Tweek could have tried to explain how useless basic logic was going to be in this fight, but when the others stared at him expectantly he acquiesced and jotted down the first idea.

“Tell them they’ve already made an investment,” Token continued. “And it’ll definitely pay off for the shop if they see it through.”

“I’m sure my dad already has some speech made up about how experience is the best teacher,” Tweek said. In fact, he could just see it now: _You can’t learn how to run a business from a book, son. Real knowledge has to be gained authentically. Authentic, like the fresh—_

“Professor McElroy let you in that play even though auditions were closed,” Jimmy pointed out, mercifully jarring Tweek from his thoughts. “That’s definitely a way to bring some new attent-t-t-t-ion to the business.”

“I only have five lines,” Tweek said. No small feat considering the semi-autobiographical musical _Hello There, Children!_ was the culmination of McElroy’s lifework, but that wasn’t something outsiders would understand. “My dad will never be impressed by that.”

“You guys are thinking about this all wrong,” Clyde said, scooting up to the edge of the couch so he could lean closer in Tweek’s direction. “These are your _parents_ , dude. They want you to be happy.”

Tweek felt a bitter laugh bubble up his throat and swallowed it down into a grimace. “You’ve _really_ never met my mom and dad.”

“Or you’re just not giving them a chance. Look, Tweek, you’ve gotta break out the puppy eyes and let them know how you feel.” Clyde clasped his hands and flashed his best pout, his big brown eyes wobbling in demonstration. “Tell them that college makes you happy, and if they really love you, they’ll want you to be happy too.”

If the power of familial love was Tweek’s last line of defense, he’d might as well start packing his bags now. Clyde tilted even closer, eyes still shining, so Tweek dutifully added ‘beg desperately’ to the list.

As Token and Jimmy started a mild debate about the most prestigious-sounding organizations Tweek could join, Tweek turned his gaze to Craig. Coming here and getting the group together to brainstorm had been Craig’s idea—a consequence of being Tweek’s roommate and thus the first person who'd had to deal with his post-phone call meltdown—but since then he’d been strangely quiet. Maybe it wasn’t fair of him, but the continued silence was working at Tweek’s already frayed nerves. Finally, he snapped. “Aren’t _you_ gonna say anything?”

“You’re the only one who really knows what your parents are like, Tweek.” Craig’s tone was calm and reasonable, but to Tweek it sounded like a condemnation.

Tweek’s shoulders drooped in defeat. “So you think it’s hopeless too.”

“I didn’t say that,” Craig argued. “I meant that no one else knows what they want to hear. So think about it this way: have they ever let you out of work for anything before?”

“No,” Tweek said automatically. A second later he sat back up, remembering that wasn’t exactly true. “Except for—. Well…”

“What is it, Tweek?” Token asked.

“Jesus, it’s embarrassing.” It wasn’t like Tweek had the luxury of worrying about his pride at this point. “But one summer when I had a boyfriend they almost never made me come in.”

“So there you go,” said Craig. “Just tell them you met the love of your life.”

“But that you need a few more months to s-s-seal the deal.” Jimmy winked.

“It’ll never work.” Tweek groaned even as he added ‘fell in love to the page.’ None of these suggestions were going to save him, but writing them down at least made him feel like he was doing something. “Back home I was just about the only gay kid in town, so my parents treated my relationships like free advertising. Dating someone here wouldn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Token said. He was obviously trying to stay positive, but Tweek could see how strained his smile was. “There’s gotta be something else we can try.”

In direction opposition to Token's eager helpfulness was Craig, who seemed to have abandoned the conversation in favor of staring at his phone. Tweek shot him a look. “Seriously, Craig?”

Craig didn’t flinch at being called out. “What time were you supposed to meet your dad again?”

“Nine o’clock.”

Silently, Craig turned his phone around to face Tweek, the display reading 8:50.

“ _Fuck_.”

* * *

Tweek had intended to drive back to his dorm and change clothes to make himself look more presentable, to really sell the _see how good college has been for me?_ angle. With only ten minutes to spare, however, that plan had been dashed right along with the rest of his hopes. If Tweek was late then his dad would probably just leave, taking away his already slim chance of making his case. Luckily, Token’s place was close to the IHOP they planned to meet up at. Unluckily, some poorly timed construction made it faster to walk—or run, rather—than to deal with navigating the downtown traffic, meaning Tweek looked even more disheveled than usual when he finally arrived.

His jacket's zipper had broken when he'd put it back on, leaving it halfway open and bunched up around the bottom. Tweek whimpered when he saw his full reflection in the glass windows of the building, his face a bright, angry red from the cold and his hair windswept into tangles that went beyond his normal messiness. He smoothed it down as best he could, but he was already five minutes late and couldn’t risk dallying too long.

 _Here goes nothing_. Tweek swallowed down his fear and stepped into the building, waving off the greeter as he spotted his father’s table.

“You’re less late than I expected, Tweek,” Richard said, barely looking up at Tweek’s arrival.

Tweek’s hands, half-numb from being out in the December air, fumbled in their attempts to pull out a chair. “Hi, Dad,” he said as he sat down, trying not to shiver as his body adjusted to the warmer temperature. “It’s good to see you.”

 _Don’t rush_ , he told himself. _Don’t be too eager._ What would he be saying if this was a normal meeting and not one that made him feel like his entire life was on the line? “Um, how was your trip?”

“Oh, you know,” Richard said, even though Tweek didn’t. “Coming out this far sure was a hassle, but the buyer offered the best price on our old espresso machines.”

“You’re replacing them already?” During Tweek’s last summer in South Park the family had spent a lot of long days doing a soft remodel of the coffeehouse, bringing in top of the line new espresso machines and even putting out ads for an actual employee, all in the name of helping the business adjust to Tweek’s absence. The new barista had only lasted a few days, but Tweek had figured the physical improvements were there to stay.

Richard nodded. “Your mother and I are looking to downgrade some of our equipment.”

“Downgrade?” The question came out as a confused squawk. That was a new one, even for Richard.

“All that fancy, high-priced equipment was getting in the way of what our business is all about,” Richard said.

Before Tweek could ask anything else, a waitress strolled up to take their order. “Can I start you gentlemen off with some coffee?”

To Tweek’s great humiliation, Richard pulled a thermos from the pocket of the jacket he’d draped over his chair, plonking it down on the table and spinning the canister around so that the Tweek Bros. label was front and center. “No thank you, we’ve brought our own.”

“Dad, please don’t—” Tweek pleaded.

At the same time, Richard said, “There won’t be any of that corporate, overprocessed coffee for me and my son. You see, here at Tweak Coffee, we—”

“I’ll have a water!” Tweek interjected loudly. The waitress, clearly grateful to have the opportunity to escape, scribbled something on her notepad and hurried away. Richard, however, lifted a brow in confusion.

“I’ve been trying to cut down on my caffeine lately,” Tweek explained.

“Now, son. You know that isn’t good for you.”

Tweek didn’t bother critiquing his dad’s questionable grasp of medical science. Honestly, he’d never given much thought to the amount of coffee he drank himself until he’d gotten to college and his newfound friends had started acting like he was one cup away from an early grave.

The waitress returned a few moments later and the two of them ordered pancakes, although Tweek didn’t feel much like eating. His stomach churned with the sour swirl of anxiety, and making small talk with his father wasn’t helping matters. He had to show he was mature enough to be allowed to stay, though, so he couldn’t just launch straight into begging. When their food arrived, Tweek finally got his chance.

“I don’t know why you’re so curious about the changes we’ve made at the shop, Tweek,” Richard said, stabbing a fork into his pancakes. “You’ll see it all for yourself once you’re back in South Park.”

Tweek made a noncommittal noise. “You said we could talk about that.”

“We _did_ talk about it. And even though your mother and I don’t know why you’re so determined to spend another week here to finish your finals, we’ve decided we’ll allow it. You need to learn about following through. After all, we don’t want this to be a repeat of what happened with the football team back in high school, now do we?”

“I got kicked off the team after I had to miss so many games because of work!” The outburst earned Tweek one of Richard’s infamous looks of mild disapproval.

Tweek clenched his fists in his lap and tried to swallow down his feelings. Letting Richard get to him wasn’t doing him any favors. Stick to the list. He thought back to Token’s first suggestion.

“You know, Dad, I’ve actually been doing really well in my classes.” Tweek injected as much pleasantness into his voice as he could, but Richard didn’t look up from his meal. “I’m learning a lot of things that’ll help us improve business.”

“That’s nice, Tweek.”

Still not even the courtesy of a glance. Tweek pressed on. “Yeah! And I think that if I finished my degree I’d learn even more. It’d be a real asset.”

“You don’t need a degree to succeed, son. Our real asset has always been the people of South Park. People, that’s what your grandfather had in mind when he started Tweak Coffee. A degree can’t teach you that.”

Before Richard could move into the speech of Tweek’s nightmares, Tweek switched gears to point number two. “But it isn’t just classes! There’s that play I told you about, remember?”

Richard glanced up. “Did they cast you as the lead?”

“Well, no—” And there went Richard’s attention. Tweek spoke faster to try to keep from losing him. “But that’s only because I joined the theater class so late! The professor made a special exception for me because he thinks I’m really talented!”

“You can send him a nice thank you card for taking pity on you, Tweek,” Richard said. “But let’s face it, son, you only would have embarrassed yourself. It’s a good thing you’re not getting the chance to go through with it.”

Tweek felt his breath quicken, pulse pounding in his ears. He was losing ground fast. His mind reached for the next idea like a doomed man scrabbling for purchase on a cliff.

“Dad,” Tweek said, his voice raw with pleading. The tears stinging his eyes were completely genuine. “I really like it here. I’ve made a lot of friends and I’m happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long, long time.”

Richard drizzled more syrup on his pancake, acknowledging Tweek with a low hum like he’d just told him the weather rather than spilling his heart out. “And you’ll be much happier back home in South Park.”

 _You don’t get to decide that!_ Tweek grit his teeth, losing the battle against his own emotions.

“That’s where your real friends are.”

“Actually, they left for college too.” Tweek couldn’t help himself. “To pursue careers they actually chose.”

“Well,” Richard said between bites of food, tone unflappably pleasant. “That means they’ll be in town for Christmas break. Won’t that be nice?”

Tweek slumped in his chair, hair dangling dangerously close to where the butter was melting onto his own pancakes, turning them into a soggy mess. Being around his family sometimes felt like the life was being drained right out of him, numbness drowning out the part of his brain that screamed for him to fight. “You’re always like this. You never listen to me.”

“Yes, yes.” At times like these, Tweek couldn’t tell whether his father was truly that oblivious or just deliberately cruel. “You can tell your mother and I all your little college stories once you’re settled back in. I’m sure it’s been quite an adventure for you.”

So that was it. One semester and it was all over. Tweek didn’t harbor any illusions he’d be able to claw his way out of South Park alone. Once he took his position at Tweek Bros, his fate would be sealed forever.

“It’s too bad.” Tweek straightened in his seat, wiping his eyes. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose, so he’d might as well cross the last tactic off the list. “Things were just starting to get serious with my boyfriend.”

Richard’s head shot up like he was just noticing Tweek for the first time. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah!” Tweek nodded fast enough to make himself dizzy. “But he’d never go for a long-distance relationship, so I guess I’ll have to break it off.”

Tweek winced at his own words. Desperation was making him play his hand too early. Fortunately, Richard seemed too enthralled to notice the faux pas. He even sat down his silverware.

“You never mentioned anything about having a boyfriend, Tweek.”

“Well, you know… I didn’t want to jinx it!”

“And it’s serious?”

“ _Very_ ,” Tweek said. “I mean, we’re not engaged yet, but we’ve talked about marriage.”

“Well.” Richard folded his hands together on the table in front of him. “That certainly changes things.”

“It does?”

“Running a business is a lot of responsibility, Tweek. Keeping the coffee shop going is a two person job, even for people who aren’t… well, like you.” Richard frowned at Tweek like he was some pitiful animal about to be put down. Tweek tried not to let the words sting, or to give in to the swell of bitterness that came from the fact that an imaginary boyfriend had done more to sway his father than Tweek’s accomplishments and feelings had managed in a lifetime. “Frankly, your mother and I worried you’d never be up to it. But if you’ve really met someone—”

“I have!”

“Then what are we sitting around here for?” Richard stood up, pulling on his coat as Tweek gaped at him. “Introduce me to him!”

“Now?” Tweek scrambled to his feet. “We can’t! What about your meeting?”

“Who cares about that?” Richard’s voice climbed in volume until it felt like he was addressing the people of the restaurant more than Tweek. “What’s one little meeting compared to getting to know my son’s new boyfriend?”

Tweek dragged a hand down his face, wondering how things had escalated so quickly. “It’s really not a good time, Dad! He—he has finals! All day!” Tweek silently prayed that his eternally out of touch father wouldn’t question the logistics of a college freshman being loaded down with finals on a Sunday. “And he takes his grades really seriously! Because—because his dream is to own a small business someday!”

Tweek didn’t have to worry long about whether that line was overkill—Richard’s eyes lit up like he’d won the jackpot. “In that case, I’m sure he’d love to have a chance to come see the coffeehouse.”

“Yeah,” Tweek agreed with a nervous laugh. “I’m sure that’d be uh, a real dream come true for him.”

“Then it’s settled.” Richard clasped Tweek’s shoulder. “After finals, you can bring him to South Park.”

Tweek’s mouth dropped open as his brain feebly clawed for an excuse that would get him out of this without blowing the whole thing. Finding none, he nodded meekly. “Yeah, sure. After finals…”

“Wonderful!” Richard patted Tweek on the back before turning for the door. “I’ve got to get back on the road, but I’ll call your mother right away. She’s going to be so happy for you.”

“Great…”

And then, without even a proper goodbye, Richard was gone and Tweek was left standing in the middle of the restaurant, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

“Wow,” said the waitress from earlier, sidling back up to him. “This is awkward.”

“He’s always like this.” Tweek rubbed his temples. The waitress made a pitying noise and for a few seconds, Tweek honestly believed she was standing close to him as some show of moral support. Then it clicked. “…And he left without paying, didn’t he?”

“Yep,” she said, pressing the bill into Tweek’s hand before ducking away. “Sorry.”

For a long moment Tweek just stood there, his eyes flicking from the check to the window where he could just see the edges of his father’s car pulling out of the parking lot, a nervous, half-hysterical laugh tumbling out of his mouth involuntarily _._

 _Of course_ this was how his finals week would start.

* * *

Despite leaving the restaurant with a significantly lighter wallet and a long walk back to his dorm waiting for him, Tweek was buzzing with determination. He’d never really thought of his parents’ interest in monetizing his love life as a good thing before, but maybe just this once it could work in his favor. Like it or not, it was the only out Tweek had, so he had no choice but to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t as if Tweek needed his parents to support him indefinitely; he had a job interview coming up and with a few months to save he could adjust his FAFSA and get through the last three years on his own without having to worry about being crushed under loan debt. All he really needed was help for one more semester. Surely he could convince them of that much, right?

Counting this week, there was a little over a month before the spring session started. That was—well, not _plenty_ of time to drag someone into this scheme, but it definitely beat the hour he’d had to come up with the idea this morning. All he had to do was find someone willing to drop by South Park for a few days and pretend to be his boyfriend. But who?

One of the guys from theater class would have been the easiest option—except for the fact that they all pretty much hated Tweek’s guts, bitter he’d been allowed into the professor’s big production despite not being some lifelong drama geek who lived and breathed musicals. Enough cash might have been able to persuade one of them, but with less than one hundred dollars left in his bank account and no job until January, Tweek couldn’t provide it.

Ruling them out, then, left Tweek with a significantly smaller pool of candidates: people who liked him enough to do it for free.

Of the handful of close friends he’d made over the last few months, Token was the obvious choice. Rich, smart, breathtakingly handsome, and despite what those first three descriptors might make someone think, also one of the most genuinely kind people Tweek had ever met, Token was every parent’s dream. He got straight As, had almost single-handedly increased his fraternity’s community service record by 150% during his first semester on campus, and was a—well, okay, he wasn’t exactly a football _star_ , but he’d been good enough to make the team. Overall, Token was the definition of too good to be true.

Which, sadly, was exactly why Tweek had to eliminate him almost immediately. Anyone who tried to look up Token on social media would quickly find the equally perfect girlfriend he’d been with since high school. It would have been hard enough for Tweek to convince his parents that a guy like Token would have ever gone for him in the first place, but the idea that he’d leave Nichole was downright laughable. Besides, Nichole also had a popular gaming YouTube channel with followers who were nothing short of scary in their devotion. If word got out that Tweek was interfering with her relationship, one of those 1.2 million (and counting) subscribers would probably kill him and his entire family, rendering the whole point moot.

Jimmy, then, was at the opposite end of the spectrum. Relentlessly old school, Jimmy was the only nineteen-year-old Tweek had ever met who’d sworn off of social media entirely. While Jimmy didn’t quite have Token’s golden boy aura, he was one of those people who absolutely oozed charisma. Tweek had never known of a group Jimmy couldn’t get in the good graces of; everyone who met Jimmy was eager to call him friend. Even Craig, infamously cranky even with people he liked, never had a bad word to say about Jimmy and sometimes seemed to get so swept up in his charm that he followed him around like a lost puppy. A double major in Biology and Journalism, Jimmy was no slouch in the academic department either. To top things off, he did standup routines in his spare time and coached Special Olympics kids over the summer. The guy never seemed to slow down, which was why Tweek sometimes felt exhausted by spending time with him.

It wasn’t that Tweek had anything _against_ Jimmy, but he never quite knew how to act when it was just the two of them. Whether it was the stories he chased for his paper almost landing the group in jail or the fearlessness with which Jimmy inserted himself into strangers’ conversations, all that ambition kind of freaked Tweek out. Jimmy was the kind of guy who rolled out of bed and decided he was going to dismantle capitalism before breakfast, and God help anyone who tried to get in his way. If Tweek took Jimmy to a sleepy little town like South Park, the citizens would probably end up declaring him their new king and ceding from the union. Tweek didn’t need to deal with _that_ on top of everything else, so he crossed another name off his imaginary list.

With Token and Jimmy eliminated, Tweek was left with Clyde and Craig. It was easy to think of them as a duo—not just for the nasally voices that had made Tweek wonder if they were both constantly sick with something contagious—but because they tended to come as a package deal. While most of Craig's group had been friends since elementary school, Craig and Clyde had grown up as neighbors and were so awful to each other they could almost be mistaken for siblings. Clyde had even shown Tweek an old photo of the two of them as toddlers, where Craig was chewing on one of Clyde’s toys while Clyde sobbed in the background. Privately, Tweek had thought the picture was like a blueprint for their whole relationship. More importantly, Clyde and Craig were pretty average when compared to the rest of the group—average grades, average ambition, average online footprint. It made them a lot easier to work with as potential fake boyfriends.

Of the two of them, Clyde was much more likely to say yes. Clyde was the outgoing sort who always appreciated a good caper, and even though he didn’t have Jimmy’s knack for wrapping people around his little finger, he radiated a natural warmth that drew in everyone around him regardless. Just one of Clyde’s famous hugs and Tweek knew his mom would be begging him to become her son-in-law.

The catch, however, was that Clyde’s emotional openness ran both ways. He was known for tearful outbursts and cracking under pressure, even when it didn’t make any sense. For reasons Tweek still didn’t understand, Clyde had gone from acing his English class to failing it to acing it again all in the span of a week because he’d falsely confessed to plagiarism. If Tweek brought Clyde home, he’d probably fold and come clean about the whole thing the minute Tweek’s parents finally started to feel won over.

And then there was Craig. Tweek and Craig had gotten off to a pretty rocky start, but enough time—and some mental gymnastics on Tweek’s part—had allowed them to settle into a surprisingly functional friendship. Craig had two major pluses going for him: one, he was Tweek’s roommate and therefore used to dealing with him in close quarters, and two, he was actually gay. The last thing Tweek needed was for his pretend date to come down with a fatal case of No Homo-itis after the first day. Granted, Craig was notoriously private about his love life, so Tweek really had no idea what that part of him was like. The others gave Craig a hard time for how disastrous his past relationships had been, and although Tweek felt bad for thinking it, he could kind of understand why. Craig cloaked himself in a layer of bravado a mile thick, and Tweek had never seen him show anything resembling affection to anyone other than Stripe. What would Craig’s idea of a date even be like, anyway—seductively whispering guinea pig facts over dinner? Tweek liked Craig, he really did, but it was hard to imagine the poor guy as the great love of anyone’s life.

Which, as much as that sucked for Craig, kind of made him the perfect fake boyfriend. He would probably stand a solid three feet away from Tweek at all times, answering his parents in polite yet monosyllabic responses and adding absolutely nothing to the story. In other words? Zero pressure.

The problem with Craig was that he’d never actually do it. Craig hated to be inconvenienced; once, when Clyde had called one morning to beg for a ride after his car had been towed, Craig had responded with _“Your phone obviously still works so you can get a goddamn Uber_ ,” hung up on him, and would have rolled over to go right back to sleep if Tweek hadn’t dragged him up to come to Clyde’s rescue. And that had been over a ten-minute ride for his oldest friend! Tweek would have to offer him something pretty damn impressive to get Craig to give up an entire week of his precious vacation to come to South Park, which put him right back at square one: no money for a bribe.

Tweek’s car was the only halfway notable thing he had to his name, but given how attached Craig was to that ancient deathtrap he’d rebuilt with his father, Tweek doubted even that would be very persuasive. He briefly considered offering to let Craig hide another contraband guinea pig in their room, but knowing the way Craig shot longing looks at stray dogs when he thought no one else was looking, that was a slippery slope to waking up to find their dorm converted into a whole fucking zoo.

Tweek was no closer to a solution by the time he made it back to their room and let himself in. He found Craig sitting in bed in his usual position, legs crossed and laptop open in front of him, headphones down around his neck. As Tweek shut the door behind him and toed off his shoes, Craig said, “You’re not tearing your hair out.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not tearing your hair out,” Craig repeated. “So it must have gone okay with your dad.”

“Well, he didn’t say _no_ , exactly.” Tweek sat down on his own bed, resting his back against the wall. “I can’t believe it, but your boyfriend idea actually seemed to get through to him.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It’s better than before,” Tweek admitted. “But now my parents expect me to bring someone who doesn’t exist home over break.”

“Oh,” Craig said. After a moment he seemed to realize the response was insufficient and added, “You can’t be surprised they want to meet the guy, Tweek.”

“I’m not!” Tweek’s voice rose a touch defensively. “I just--!” He cut himself off with a growl. “This is all happening so fast! I barely had time to come up with an excuse in the first place, and now I have a week to find a fake boyfriend or my college life is over!”

Craig pushed his laptop off his legs and angled towards Tweek, giving the problem his full attention. “What if you asked one of those theater kids?”

“I’d have to pay them! And if I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t be in this stupid mess in the first place.”

“Token would do it,” Craig said, crossing his arms and jutting his chin out thoughtfully. “But he’s too high profile.”

“Nichole’s fans would have me killed.”

“And Jimmy stresses you out when you’re alone together.”

Tweek nodded again, feeling the tiniest spark of hope ignite in his heart.

“Clyde would be annoying as fuck about it.”

For a moment Tweek held his breath, wondering if Craig was going to reach the same conclusion he had and spare Tweek the humiliation of having to ask. Just when Tweek felt like his lungs were going to explode in anticipation, Craig pulled the computer back onto his lap and added, “But I’m sure he’d say yes.”

Then Craig went back to typing as if the matter was settled and Clyde was the best Tweek could possibly do. Tweek groaned quietly and thumped his head back against the wall. So much for doing this the easy way.

“Actually,” Tweek said, nerves causing his voice to rise several octaves. _Just say it_ , he told himself. _Get it over with_. “I was um, kind of hoping maybe _you’d_ do it.”

“Me?” Incredulous, but not an immediate no. That was a good sign.

“You’re less likely to cry on me than Clyde, man.” Tweek was going for lighthearted, but a shaky, high pitched desperation clung to every word. Craig hadn’t laughed in his face or told him to fuck off yet, though, so Tweek hurried to press on. “And I mean, you know me the best out of anyone, so it wouldn’t be weird or anything. There’s no way you’d ever think I’m actually into you.”

Still no response from Craig, but he frowned like he was mulling it over. Tweek clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking and swallowed. “And okay, I have no idea how I’d ever pay you back, but I _swear_ I’d find a way, Craig! I’d owe you the biggest favor of my life!”

Craig’s frown deepened and Tweek could practically see the gears turning in his head, doubtlessly thinking of something ridiculous to ask for in return. What would it be? Doing his math homework until they graduate? A lifetime of essay writing? Some kind of indentured servitude? His firstborn child? A human sacrifice? A human sacrifice _of_ his firstborn child? Maybe—

“Can I bring Stripe?”


	2. Chapter 2

“This is my boyfriend, _Tweek_.”

“That’s terrible, man! You still sound like you’re reading off a script!”

“This _is_ my boyfriend, Tweek.”

“What’s with the random emphasis? It’s not believable at all!”

“It’s because you’re making me practice on Stripe.” Craig waved a hand towards his guinea pig, busy munching on a piece of celery a few inches away from where Tweek and Craig were sprawled out on their dorm room floor. “I can’t lie to him.”

As if on cue, Stripe finished his snack and bolted across the floor, no longer a captive audience without food to hold his attention.

“Don’t forget I asked Clyde to help us first,” Tweek said, crossing his arms. “But you said his stupid face was too distracting.”

“Was I wrong?”

“No,” Tweek relented, almost immediately dropping his hands back down to his sides. “His stupid face _was_ distracting.”

“See?” Craig cracked a smile, even if Clyde wasn’t around to hear the insult. “I don’t know what you’re so worked up about anyway. How hard can pretending to date be?”

When it came to tempting fate, that line was right up there with _what could possibly go wrong?_

“Harder than you think, Craig. My mom’s expecting you to stay for a whole week.”

“Something you’ve told me at least five times already.”

“Because it’s important!”

Finals week had come and gone, and with Craig due to leave for his home in Denver in the morning, tonight was their last chance to work on getting their couple act down in person. Even if the role of fake boyfriend wasn’t going to require much of Craig, Tweek needed to make sure he was approaching it with the right mindset. He’d seen enough of Craig’s half-assed attempts at creating distractions (usually in service of Jimmy snooping around for a story) to know the matter couldn’t be left to Craig’s acting skills alone.

Fortunately, Tweek didn’t think it was an entirely hopeless cause. Craig might have been stilted as a performer, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to _lie_. Case in point: why Craig had spent most of the week at Token’s place. Tweek had taken his story about needing some extra study help at face value, not questioning it at all until Token had pulled Tweek aside to ask if he knew why Craig had been moping on his couch for the last few days. Looking at Craig now, it was easy to tell something was off; he appeared moody, even for him, poorly concealed sadness hanging over him like a dark cloud. Tweek wondered if Craig had broken up with another one of his mysterious boyfriends—it would explain the secrecy, at least. Craig had told him to drop it the minute Tweek had asked, though, and considering that Craig currently held his future in his hands, Tweek wasn’t in any position to push him too hard. Even if the curiosity was driving him crazy.

Craig, leaning back with his palms pressed flat against the floor, stared off like he was thinking. “You don’t have to be anywhere in the morning, right?”

Tweek shook his head. “No, why?”

“If you’re serious about thinking we need to practice, we should go find some actual people.”

A cold splash of alarm hit Tweek’s stomach. “We can’t practice on anyone in our building! We have to see them again in a few weeks!"

Craig’s expression flattened, stopping just short of rolling his eyes. “I didn’t mean _here_. Clyde told me there’s a Christmas carnival set up just outside of Pueblo. Aren’t you into that stuff?”

“I guess so.” Maybe not the Christmas part so much, but he _did_ like carnivals. “Now just doesn’t feel like a good time.”

“Now’s the perfect time.” Craig sat up, hands resting on his thighs. “Seriously, dude. Have you done anything this week other than take tests and freak out about your dad?”

“I had a job interview,” Tweek said, contrite since he knew it wasn’t helping his case. The nice blonde girl who worked behind the counter had offered to vouch for him with the boss, so as nerve-wracking as the process had been, Tweek had a good feeling about it. Maybe having a person on the inside would be the difference between this café and the dozens of other potential employers who’d rejected him earlier in the year.

“You’re proving my point.” Craig got to his feet, a sure sign he was serious about dragging them out somewhere. “Don’t you want to do at least one fun thing before the semester’s over?”

“Well…” Tweek said noncommittally, staring up at Craig as he bit his lip.

“And we aren’t gonna see anyone we know, so you can give me your acting tips or whatever.”

Tweek wavered. Craig had a way of making his ideas sound sensible when he wanted to. They clearly weren’t going to get very far with Stripe and maybe it _would_ be good to get out of his dorm for a little bit. He’d been pretty cooped up lately, and it might even help with whatever was bothering Craig.

Reluctance fading, Tweek finally nodded. “Okay, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stop by."

“Then come on.”

Despite Craig’s eagerness, it was Tweek who crawled over to wrangle Stripe from under Craig’s desk, stroking his fur a couple times before taking him back to his cage. “Your dad was going to leave and forget about you again.”

“I didn’t _forget_.” Craig slipped on his coat and shoved his wallet and keys into the pocket. “You just beat me to it.”

“Uh-huh.” Tweek tsked and gave a dramatic shake of his head, snapping the door to Stripe’s cage shut. “Poor Stripe. What’s he gonna do without me for a month?”

“Be a lot less spoiled, probably,” Craig said, but Tweek looked over his shoulder in time to catch Craig turning to hide his smile.

Stripe let out some low wheeking sounds at the loss of attention, prompting Tweek to stick his fingers through the cage to give the guinea pig some last pets. Really, it was kind of funny that Tweek had become so attached to Stripe even though he was only taking up space in their room as a direct result of Craig’s pettiness.

Tweek’s friendship with Craig had formed opposite to the one he’d built with Token, who Tweek had met on his first day of classes and immediately bonded with over their mutually terrible names. Tweek and Craig, meanwhile, had been about one smartass comment away from an honest-to-God fistfight for the first week or so they’d known each other. The animosity had started from day one, when Craig had complained about Tweek being messy from practically the moment he’d walked through the door. And okay, sure, Tweek was a little on the chaotic side, but who wasn’t when they were unpacking? What was he supposed to do, take every item he owned out one at a time?

In hindsight, Tweek could admit that what had come next had been a little more his fault. After growing up in the Tweak household he’d normalized the way his parents made coffee makers as common a fixture in every room as light bulbs, so he’d been annoyed when Craig had acted like there was a problem with Tweek plugging them into all three of their dorm’s major outlets. At the time, Tweek had thought Craig was the weird one for not grasping the subtle but important difference between a French press and a drip brew. Then, on their first Saturday of rooming together, Craig had disappeared for hours only to return to the room with Stripe in tow, insisting that if Tweek was going to make their dorm smell like burned coffee grounds then he was going to have his goddamn guinea pig.

Tweek had, of course, immediately freaked out, but there wasn’t much he could’ve done about the situation. If he’d told on Craig for smuggling in a very-much-against-the-rules pet, then Craig could’ve painted him as guilty by association and gotten them both expelled. (Well, in Tweek’s mind, anyway. Craig maintained that Stripe getting them into serious trouble was a laughable risk.) They might have continued their battle of one-upmanship indefinitely, if not for the fact that as much as Craig loved Stripe, he was a pretty irresponsible pet owner in practice. Stripe had made his first escape after only three days, sending Craig into a panic. As satisfying as it probably should have been to see the tables turn, Tweek had quickly decided to help him—not for Craig’s sake, mind you, but because if Craig had gotten busted he’d have probably brought Tweek down with him. Tweek had tracked Stripe all the way to the laundry room, narrowly rescuing him from a pile of dirty clothes while Craig had scrambled to come up with a cover story. The whole thing had been so ridiculous that once they’d made it back to their room, a squirming guinea pig still concealed in Tweek’s hoodie, he and Craig had looked at each other and burst out laughing.

They’d been more amicable towards each other from then on, a good thing considering that Tweek hadn’t had a clue about Craig and Token being friends until he’d been invited to hang out at Token’s place one day only to find Craig already there. Token had looked back and forth between them before saying, “Wait, _this_ is the guy you’ve been complaining so much about?”

It had taken Tweek a little longer to realize Token had been talking to _both_ of them.

Sensing Craig’s impatience, Tweek tore himself away from Stripe and put on his own coat as the two of them headed for the door. Before they even made it out of the building, he needed to make one thing very clear. “We’re not taking your car.”

Craig, like clockwork, said, “There’s nothing wrong with my car.”

Maybe twenty years ago when Craig’s dad had first restored the Tucker family’s hideous, ancient Mercury Bobcat, that had been true. In the ensuing decades, however, the car had been re-re- _re_ built to the point of barely qualifying as roadworthy, and that Craig insisted on still trying to drive it in all its garishly orange, plaid-seated glory was an insult to both good taste and classic car enthusiasts alike. Tweek knew that for Craig, that was part of the car’s appeal—Craig might swear up and down that he wanted a boring life, but he would probably curl up and die if he couldn’t generate at least a little negative attention.

“Face it, man. That thing belongs in a museum.” With the other unforgivable sins of decades past, like numetal and Mel Gibson’s entire career.

“You just don’t appreciate the classics.”

“I appreciate things that _work_ ,” Tweek retorted, following Craig out the door and through the parking lot. A light snow was coming down, already collecting on the ground in slushy piles that were sure to make the roads a nightmare for everyone driving back home over the weekend. The sidewalk was slippery enough that Tweek had to choose his footing carefully, prompting Craig, the long-legged bastard, to slow down and wait for him. It would have been kind of nice if he didn’t always have to look so smug about it.

“If we take your car then I wanna drive,” Craig said, stopping in front of Tweek’s Camry and holding his hands out for the keys. This was how the debate always ended, and Tweek was pretty sure Craig only ever suggested going places in his glorified hunk of scrap metal to have more leverage. Sometimes they’d bicker for a while over control of the car, but already tired and stressed, Tweek honestly didn’t feel much like navigating through the dark on icy roads. Not that he wasn’t going to grumble about it as he tossed Craig his keys, though.

“You bitch about my car,” Craig said as they climbed in, the engine roaring to life once Craig started it up. “But this is like, what a soccer mom drives before she gets a van.”

“At least my heat doesn’t go out once a week.”

Craig snorted. “Like you’d notice? You barely even remember to wear a coat half the time, Tweek.”

Craig must have been serious about trying to cheer him up, because as soon as he hooked his phone into the stereo, he brought up one of Tweek’s playlists without any of his usual complaints.

For a while, Tweek stared out the window, trying to let the music and falling snow relax him with minimal success. After a few minutes he said, “We should work on getting our story straight.”

“Okay.” To Craig’s credit, his eyes didn’t leave the road. “Should we tell your parents we’re roommates?”

Tweek suppressed the urge to shudder. Knowing the Tweaks, they’d think of him and Craig rooming together as an invitation to ask invasive questions about their sex life. The resulting trauma would probably scare Tweek into permanent celibacy. “They can _never_ find out we’re roommates! We’ll say we met in class. Like… an English class. Everyone takes an English class. That’s normal, right?”

“I thought so until you made it sound so weird,” Craig said. “Okay, so we met in English class and then I asked you out—”

Tweek shook his head vehemently. “ _I_ asked _you_ out.”

“Is that really such a big deal?”

“The most important part of the story is making sure it’s something my parents will believe,” Tweek said. Richard and Helen tended to be on the oblivious side, but the premise of the fake relationship still needed to be rock solid. “So we’ll say I asked you a few times before you finally gave in.”

“ _That’s_ what your parents will believe?”

“If we’re lucky!” Not to mention that it would make things easier for Craig. “Look, you’ll barely even have to act like you notice me. My parents’ main concern is getting someone to help run the family business, so that’s what you need to seem interested in.”

“So basically,” Craig said, his face scrunched up in confusion, “you want me to act like I hate you.”

“Not hate,” Tweek corrected. “You tolerate me.” A guy as good-looking and superficially normal as Craig falling in love with Tweek in only a few short months would have pushed his parents’ suspension of disbelief beyond the tipping point, but maybe, if the universe decided to cut him a break, they could pass Craig off as unambitious enough to settle for Tweek in the interests of his career.

“I tolerate you,” Craig repeated, clearly uncomfortable. “Because I have my eye on the coffee shop.”

“Yep.”

“In other words, I’m the world’s laziest gold digger.”

That startled a laugh out of Tweek and he flashed Craig a sly grin. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so out of character for you.”

“No,” Craig agreed good-naturedly. “But I’d never go for someone in the coffee business. Way too much customer service. I’d seduce a nice laundromat owner or something.”

“I think the old man who runs the coin laundry in South Park is a widower now. If you play your cards right, I’ll introduce you once this is over.”

“That’s what I get for helping you, huh?” Craig shook his head. “Anything else I should know?”

“You’ve gotta make it clear that you’d dump me if I moved back to South Park.”

“So a lazy gold digger with no sense of object permanence.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt if you could pretend to like coffee.”

Craig immediately pulled a face, making Tweek laugh again. “Okay, okay, that’s too far. Loving money is probably good enough.”

“Wow, Tweek.” Craig did chance a look at him that time, an eyebrow raised. “Better not tell Hallmark. I think you just came up with the next great holiday romance.”

“I know it’s fucked up, man, but it’s just how my parents are,” Tweek said, shifting in his seat. He could drive himself crazy thinking about it, or he could make the most of what he was given. For once in his life, Tweek was trying to do the latter.

“You being happy doesn’t factor into this at all?”

“I think… the way they see it, the coffee shop being successful _is_ being happy.” It seemed to be how the Tweaks measured their own marriage, anyway.

“Well,” Craig said after a long moment of silence. “I guess that’ll make them easy to impress.”

Tweek caught sight of the carnival attractions in the distance as Craig pulled into the area sectioned off for parking, gravel crunching beneath the car’s tires. Structurally, the carnival didn’t look too different from other travelling attractions, with lines of booths and shoddy rides that stretched up to the sky. The whole thing had been given a quick red and green makeover, strings of lights and tinsel wrapped around the tent posts as oversized inflatable snowmen swayed in the breeze. Pop covers of Christmas songs wilted through the air, just loudly enough to be heard even out here. It was cheesy as hell, but in a way Tweek found it kind of charming. He knew he wouldn’t have much time for these kinds of spontaneous adventures once he was back at the coffeehouse, so he wanted to take advantage of his college freedom while he could.

Except for one tiny problem. As they stepped out and locked the car behind them, Tweek said, “I really don’t think I have the money for this.”

“Can you stop worrying so much? I got paid today.” Craig made it sound like he was some high roller instead of a guy whose work-study job mainly consisted of sitting behind the desk at the student center and being as unhelpful as humanly possible.

Tweek wanted to protest more, but it was hard to get a word in and keep up with Craig’s long strides at the same time. Before he knew it, Craig was shoving a cup of peppermint hot chocolate into his hands and all but dragging him around the carnival. It didn’t take long for the two of them to end up in a competition of sorts, pitting Craig’s steady-handed skill against the raw power of Tweek’s pent-up frustration as they explored the game booths.

The final battle came down to an oddly dark game about protecting a cut out of Santa from robbers, and when Tweek threw his last ball it slammed into the plywood target with enough force to shake the entire tent. The carnival worker looked unmistakably disturbed as she handed him a stuffed unicorn—selected by and for a little girl who was watching behind him since neither he nor Craig had any use for the actual prizes—and Tweek decided that maybe they’d had enough games for one day.

As the girl scampered off with her family, Tweek shot Craig a triumphant look. “Okay, I’m calling it. That was enough to make me the winner.”

“Did the cold weather make you forget how to count? I definitely won more rounds than you.”

“Yeah,” Tweek said as the two aimlessly wandered the carnival grounds, “but you made a little boy cry by getting him the wrong toy.”

Craig huffed, his breath visible in the cold night air. “How the fuck was I supposed to know what a ‘Bubble Guppy’ is?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Tweek whirled around, walking backwards for a few steps so he could stare right at Craig in the most annoying way possible. Craig liked coming out on top so much that he tended to take even minor rivalries seriously, which was why Tweek could never resist giving him a hard time. “Breaking a kid’s heart around Christmas has to count for like, negative two points.”

“If I didn’t already know you were gay, your total disrespect for math would have proved it.”

“No one likes a sore loser, Craig.”

“You know what? In the spirit of the season, I’m not even gonna argue.” Craig’s face, dangerously near pouty, told a different story. Then he nudged Tweek’s arm and pointed to something behind him. “And I think we’ve found your prize.”

Tweek turned to see that they’d inadvertently made their way to the Ferris wheel, lit up in shimmering holiday patterns as an upbeat song about Christmastime pining blasted from overhead. He knew he should probably object—it hadn’t escaped Tweek that he and Craig had yet to spend any time here on their intended purpose—but on the other hand, it would have taken superhuman willpower to say no to something as ridiculously stupid as a Christmas-themed Ferris wheel. “Okay,” Tweek agreed, voice strained like this conclusion had been the result of some great internal battle.

Craig’s easy grin showed that he wasn’t surprised at all, but at least he kept any self-satisfied comments about Tweek being predictable to himself. Tweek and Craig walked up to the ride, where Craig used the last of the tickets he’d bought to pay for their entry. The ride operator pointed to where mistletoe hung above the walkway, but Craig’s only response was to flip the guy off as he and Tweek brushed past him.

“Super fucking romantic,” Tweek said, snickering as he settled into his seat. “It’s like we’re married already.”

The ride soon lurched to a start, the old metal screeching from the effort. Tweek was unbothered by the noise, however, a sense of calm settling over him like a blanket. People always expected him to be scared of these sorts of things, but the truth was that there were a negligible number of ride-based accidents per year, and unlike the existential horrors that took up space in his head these days, he could soothe any worries with easily Googleable statistics. It was kind of nice, in fact, to watch the ground get further and further away, like the Ferris wheel was going to carry him off into the sky and far from all the troubles holding him back.

“So,” he said, turning his attention back to Craig. “I’ve noticed you aren’t doing much practicing.”

“It turns out that it’s actually pretty hard to find a reason to lie to strangers about your life.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And,” Craig added, “I might have had an ulterior motive for coming here.”

“You don’t say.”

Craig sighed like being asked to explain himself caused him physical pain, slumping down just enough to prop his feet up on the empty seats on the opposite side of the car. Fucking showoff. “Look, I won’t be able to get away from _my_ parents until after Christmas, and you seem like you’re gonna spend the whole time overthinking about what can go wrong. I figured you could use a distraction.”

“It’s not like I _want_ to keep freaking out, Craig.” Tweek wrung his hands in his lap, unease creeping back up his spine. “But this is the only chance I’ve got. My dad shot down every other argument I tried.”

“I know you don’t wanna hear this, Tweek, but you do have other options.” Craig crossed his arms, his eyes serious. “Token would practically pay someone to take his extra room and you said that job interview went okay, right?”

“Even if I get hired, there’s no way waiting tables is gonna cover my tuition in time.”

“Okay, but if you took next semester off and saved up—”

“And piss off my parents even more?!” Tweek sank back, staring up at the rust patterns on the car’s ceiling and drawing his arms around himself for reasons beyond the cold. Of course Craig didn’t get it. The Tuckers might nag him about his career choices, but that had nothing on the Tweaks, who’d brought their son into the world for one specific purpose. Whether it was now or after graduation, Tweek _was_ going to have to go back to Tweek Bros. one day. To save his future self from unnecessary grief, he needed to keep the peace with his family until then. “I have to convince them to let me stay, Craig. If you’re trying to talk me out of it because you’ve changed your mind about helping then that’s okay, but—”

“Jesus, dude, I’m not bailing on you.” The alarm in Craig’s voice made him sound sincere, but he sat up and angled himself toward Tweek like he was trying to prove it. “I’ll drop it, all right?”

Tweek managed a weak smile. “Maybe I’ll have to come up with something better next year, but for now I’m just trying to take it one crisis at a time, you know?”

It was plain to see Craig didn’t truly follow Tweek’s logic, but he was willing to lend his support and that would have to be enough.

* * *

“Okay,” Tweek said once they'd stepped off the Ferris wheel and rejoined the crowd. A night out seemed to have put both of them in a better mood, so Tweek figured they should make _some_ effort to get back on track. “Let’s go over our backstory one last time. I met you in English class—”

“Where I was distracted by your hair,” Craig cut in, causing Tweek to stifle a laugh.

“That’s great! You should use that!”

Craig tilted his head, confused. “What, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Tweek said. “We have to keep it believable, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.” A week in South Park was going to be miserable for Craig, so Tweek wanted to mitigate that damage anyway he could.

Craig nodded slowly, like he was finally catching on. “I think that if we’re gonna pull this off, you need to let me do it my way.”

It was a suggestion that should have terrified Tweek—introducing unknowns into the plan at the last minute was a dangerous game. Strangely enough, though, the brief wave of apprehension faded and left him without any real misgivings. Maybe it was because he knew Craig would act in his best interests. It was a strange feeling, trusting someone that much. “Okay, Craig. As long as you don’t do anything too crazy.”

* * *

“There.” Tweek finished securing his last string of lights to the wall of the retirement home’s common area, the second time he’d performed the task in as many weeks. He still didn’t know what tragedy had befallen the first set of decorations, but when it came to the weird shit that the elderly got up to, it was usually best to not ask too many questions. Token had told him as much the very first day he’d agreed to pitch in on volunteering, and the advice had served Tweek well ever since.

It was a rewarding enough job most of the time, even if they frequently got saddled with the manual labor the regular staff were too busy to get around to. (And every now and then Tweek had to put up with the residents calling him Zeke and complaining about how illegals were ruining the country, making him decide that old people could go and fuck themselves after all.)

Tweek climbed down to survey his handiwork one last time before he folded the ladder up and carried it off to the storage room. He found Token already there, wiping sweat off his brow as he stacked some heavy-looking boxes in the corner.

“Are we done for the day?” Tweek asked.

“We’re gonna have to be,” Token said. “Nichole will be here to pick me up any minute.”

As they headed back to the main desk to sign out, Tweek cast one last glance down the hall. “Do you think I should go say goodbye?”

He was trying to be optimistic, but realistically Tweek knew this might be his last weekend in Colorado Springs.

“You always look so worried.” An old lady beat Token to the punch, taking one of Tweek’s hands and holding it between her wrinkled palms. Age had rendered her about half of Tweek’s size, but she had a confidence he wasn’t sure he’d ever match. “You’re a good boy. Good things will happen to you.”

“Um,” Tweek answered, not really sure of what to say as he pulled away. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re the only one who’s lasted here more than a week,” Token said, lightly elbowing Tweek’s arm. “If I have to, I’ll personally kidnap you back from South Park myself.”

"I'll hold you to it, dude."

Nichole was already waiting for them in the parking lot by the time they stepped outside, and she hurried up to throw her arms around Token’s neck to pull him in for a dramatic kiss. Token and Nichole always reunited like a couple of lovers who’d been tragically torn apart by war, never content to settle for just a peck on the lips. Tweek stared down at the pavement, wondering if he could sneak off to his own car without the lovebirds noticing.

No such luck. Nichole’s eyes moved to Tweek as soon as she came up for air. “Tweek, are you sure you don’t wanna come to dinner with us?”

“It would make Clyde feel like less of a third wheel,” Token added.

“Sorry guys, but I still have a lot of packing to do,” Tweek said. That and he really didn’t have the cash to spare, as much as he would have liked to tag along on the double date with Jimmy and Heidi if just to see how Jimmy had managed to turn the last few days of the semester into a whirlwind fling with his chief academic rival. Tweek planned to get Clyde to tell him everything later if Token wasn’t feeling gossipy. “Are you still driving back to Denver tonight?”

“Yep,” Nichole replied. “So all the more reason to try and relax while we can.”

Token held up his fingers, counting off their obligations. “We’ve got Christmas Eve afternoon with her aunt and uncle then Christmas Eve evening with my grandparents and Christmas morning with _her_ grandparents and Christmas dinner with _both_ our parents and—” Token stopped, frowning like he’d confused himself. “And probably like ten more things I’m forgetting.”

Nichole giggled while Tweek shook his head sympathetically. “At least it’s not your first time meeting each other’s families.”

“Yeah, but this year is different,” Nichole said. “Before we were both still living at home, so this is our first Christmas visiting everyone as a couple.”

Nichole stopped short of saying _you wouldn’t understand_ , but Tweek wouldn’t have blamed her since he really didn’t. His college love life had been limited to a few mediocre dates and an ill-advised Halloween hookup he had to count as a net loss since he’d gotten his shoes stolen in the process. Even back in South Park the most romantic declaration he’d ever received was along the lines of, ‘you’re the only other gay guy around, so I _guess_ dating you is better than being single.’ The kind of long-term bond Token and Nichole had was way out of his wheelhouse.

“What about you?” Nichole asked. “You’re still doing the fake boyfriend thing?” Her tone turned skeptical, “With _Craig_?”

“Yeah.” Tweek chuckled, hoping his attempt at playing casual didn’t make him look unhinged. “It’ll um, be really interesting.”

Token and Nichole exchanged a look, silently communicating in that way only people truly in love could do. Sometimes watching them made Tweek feel a pang of envy—what would it be like to have that kind of connection with someone? Other times, like right now, it just made him feel frustrated about being out of the loop.

“You know Token would go with you if you can wait until January,” Nichole said, pointing at her boyfriend like he was a prize on a game show. “Or, hey! If you really wanna blow your parents’ minds, I could be your fake girlfriend!”

“Or we could be a throuple!” Token added. Always in sync, the two of them struck a cheesy pose together right on cue.

Tweek barely bit back his grimace. “I appreciate the offer, guys. I really do! But I think things will work out better if I stick with Craig.”

He loved Token and Nichole, but spending the holidays watching the perennial prom king and queen stare into each other’s eyes was the definition of Hell on earth. At least he and Craig could commiserate on their mutual loneliness.

“Just…” Token trailed off almost as soon as he started speaking, sharing another one of those long, dubious glances with Nichole, like they knew something Tweek didn’t. “Just be careful, okay?”

Tweek felt himself twitch. “What does _that_ mean?”

Nichole’s smile was placating. “There are a lot of ways something like this can backfire.”

“And we like both of you way too much to wanna end up in the middle of it,” Token said.

“It’ll be fine.” Tweek wasn’t sure if his stubborn insistence was meant to convince himself or his friends, but he felt certain that if any conflict rose up it wouldn’t be between him and Craig. His tumultuous relationship with his parents had been threatening to boil over ever since Tweek had been old enough to form opinions beyond _coffee=good_. Craig, by contrast, was blessedly uncomplicated. "I mean, we're talking about _Craig_. He's the least dramatic person we know."

Usually.

Token and Nichole didn't look convinced, but they let the matter go in favor of saying their goodbyes. As Tweek watched them drive off, he made a concentrated effort to push the whole cryptic warning to the back of his mind. Whatever doubts anyone else had, Tweek had made his choice and he was going to have to live with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though Tweek had until the end of the day to vacate his dorm, he found himself rolling out of bed a little after six AM all the same. There was something to be said for old habits.

Craig had left most of his belongings behind, but the other side of the room still looked oddly bare in his absence. It was the quiet, though, that unsettled Tweek the most. Over the last few months he’d become accustomed to waking up to the sounds of Craig’s snoring and Stripe either whining for food or running amok after once again clawing his way to freedom. Knowing that silence only ever made the thoughts ricocheting around in Tweek’s head feel that much more unwieldy, he shoved his sleep-tangled hair out of his face and plodded over to his desk in search of a distraction.

Tweek opened his laptop and started up the CAD program Token and Nichole had sent him as an early Christmas gift. He'd nearly had a heart attack when he’d looked up the price tag, but it wasn’t like he could return a cashed in registration code. Now that the shock had somewhat faded, Tweek just felt appreciative. The program had a steep learning curve, but it was fun to work with and he _did_ miss model building. His dorm wasn’t large enough to allow for him to throw himself into the hobby the way he used to, to say nothing of living with a ravenous guinea pig who tried to inhale anything small enough to fit in his mouth.

Unsure of what to make, Tweek looked to the well-worn posters taped to the wall by Craig’s bed for inspiration. First he considered trying to copy the design of the _Enterprise-_ D, but quickly discarded the idea since anything Star Trek-related made him feel entirely too much like Kevin Stoley. Tweek settled on the weird-looking car from that 90s anime Craig was (not so) secretly obsessed with, figuring that trying to translate its bizarre proportions into something that would be functional in 3D was the kind of challenge that would keep his brain good and occupied.

Or it would have been if Tweek’s progress didn’t keep getting interrupted by texts. His mom had really stepped up on messaging him over the last few days, constantly asking Tweek if he was done with his last exams and wondering when he was going to be free to come home. Strangely, she’d made no mention of the coffeehouse or Tweek dropping out of school even though Tweek, ever alert, had braced for it each time.

The whole thing had become a cycle: the flood of dread when his phone buzzed with a notification, the apprehension of forcing himself to read it, and finally the onslaught of guilt from expecting the worst only to find the message was as innocuous as _we miss you, pumpkin_. It was causing Tweek to question his judgement; maybe his parents weren’t as unfair as he’d been making them out to be. Maybe _Tweek_ was the problem. He knew he didn’t go home as often as he should have. Despite campus being less than two hours away from South Park, he’d only made the trip a couple of times and those had been back at the beginning of the semester.

At first Tweek’s reluctance to leave Colorado Springs had been out of a genuine struggle to get a handle on his classes. College was overwhelming, especially for Tweek, whose teachers had been dismissing him as a lost cause for pretty much as long as he could remember. That was another thing he and Craig had in common, and it was part of what had bonded them. They’d spent a lot of long nights poring over their textbooks, united in their quest to prove everyone who’d underestimated them wrong. When Tweek’s first algebra exam had come back with an A, he’d been more determined than ever to keep the streak going, invigorated by the knowledge that maybe he could have always been this successful if only someone along the way had bothered to believe in him.

Intense study sessions hadn’t left him with a lot of free time for visiting his parents, though, and the weekends when Tweek had dropped by hadn’t given him much incentive to come back. Richard and Helen had put him to work like nothing had changed, leaving him to return to school groggy and drained on Monday mornings. With his friends’ encouragement, Tweek had found more and more excuses to stay on campus as time went on. His parents hadn’t seemed too upset about it, at least not until Thanksgiving break. That was when Nichole had organized a 48-hour charity livestream for her YouTube channel, and she’d needed all hands on deck to make it run smoothly. Tweek had spent the whole four-day weekend at Token’s parents’ place in Denver, getting a crash course in camerawork from Craig and pitching in on set construction. For such a deceptively simple looking show, it took a lot of behind the scenes work to keep _Board Girls_ on track. Exhausting as those days had been, Tweek had still had a lot of fun. So much fun, in fact, that he’d barely thought about his parents at all until he’d sat down to listen to their passive aggressive voicemails about how swamped they’d been at the shop without his help.

Deep down, Tweek wondered if taking him out of school now was their way of getting revenge, a thought that immediately filled him with shame. Still, it wouldn’t have cost Tweek Bros. _that_ much in profits to bring on at least one employee in Tweek’s absence. His parents seemed to have completely abandoned the idea after that first bad experience. Richard spoke of the girl who’d quit as if she’d committed some great betrayal, but secretly, Tweek could sympathize. The coffeehouse was long hours for little reward, and his parents were too set in their ways to be flexible. When Tweek took over someday he vowed he would be more reasonable about it.

After about half an hour of switching his attention between his phone and computer it became clear that Tweek wasn’t getting any work done, so he decided to stop dragging his feet and get on the road. He showered, dressed, and packed up the few remaining essentials he had left—namely, his bedding and the WWII aviation museum postcard he’d pinned to the wall the day he’d moved in. The museum had been a big part of why Tweek had been so set on going to the university in Colorado Springs in the first place; his parents had never come through on taking him as a kid, and by the time he’d been old enough to drive there himself Tweek had been so busy between school, work, and trying—unsuccessfully—to not lose his place on the football team that he’d never gotten around to going. After looking forward to the trip for so many years, Tweek had decided to save it for the end of the semester, like a reward for making it this far.

Except now the semester _was_ over and Tweek had absolutely nothing to celebrate. With a sigh, he removed the postcard from the wall and put it on top of his packed clothes so it would be the first thing he’d see when he unzipped his bag, a promise to his future self that he wasn’t beaten yet.

Loading up the car turned out to be a surprisingly quiet affair, mainly because Tweek was one of the last remaining stragglers still kicking around the dorms, something that only made him feel shittier. The other people who lived there were probably better, more grateful children who didn’t ignore their families in favor of staring at a computer screen. Tweek spared one last glance at his dorm room, all traces of his existence erased, before closing the door for what might prove to be the final time.

* * *

Uneasiness set in for Tweek almost as soon as he started driving, the hammering of his heart picking up speed in time with the roadside backdrop growing steadily more rural. Even the road signs put him on edge, the distance markers zooming by like a countdown taking him past the point of no return. Tweek knew he was being ridiculous even as his shaking hands faltered over the steering wheel—normal people didn’t start freaking out because of a few goddamn landmarks. Going back to your hometown was supposed to be comforting, wasn’t it? That’s what all the songs said. So why did every mile that brought Tweek closer to Park County make him feel like he was going to throw up? It was like he could picture the ever-present mountains around him shifting, ready to close ranks and trap him in his hometown forever the moment he was foolish enough to cross its borders.

Tweek ended up pulling over at the Starbucks in Woodland Park, the last bastion of caffeinated hope between the veritable coffee desert that made up the next sixty-something miles between here and South Park. (Experience had taught him that expecting the local places to be open was a gamble, especially around the holidays.) At this point in his life Tweek knew the medicinal properties of coffee his parents had always touted were total bullshit, but his body was still trained to the placebo effect nonetheless. As Tweek gulped down an entire Venti black coffee right there in the parking lot, he tried to imagine its warmth spreading from his head to his toes, soothing away his worries. Before leaving he made sure to pitch both the cup and the receipt in the trash—if his parents caught him with “rival” coffee they’d disown him for sure.

There were some things even caffeine couldn’t cure, though, and by the final leg of the journey Tweek’s anxiousness returned in full force. It didn’t help that the highway through Garo was so barren, providing him with little more to look at than snow covered hills and the occasional passing car. Getting this close to home felt kind of like the first moments of being on a rollercoaster, trapped in that slow and steady ascent with the _click click click_ of the tracks echoing in your ears, the tension building and building as your gut twisted with the knowledge that there was nowhere to go but down. Then again, Tweek thought, rollercoasters were actually _fun._ Coming back to South Park was probably more like a rollercoaster on a perpetual incline, climbing so high you could no longer see the path in front of you and leaving you to wonder if you’d be able to survive the inevitable drop.

Or, more likely, maybe Tweek should just leave the metaphors to his dad.

* * *

For the most part, Tweek found South Park to be exactly as he’d left it. Modern, freshly constructed buildings stood next to the dilapidated ones that had been there for decades, and familiar potholes that never seemed to make it into the city budget remained peppered throughout the roads. In some respects, the town always looked like it was at war with itself, trapped in a constant battle of old and new.

Okay, maybe there were a few more _Now a Tegridy Property_ decals stuck to the shop windows along Main Street, but even that wasn’t much of a surprise given how Stan’s family had been buying up South Park real estate like there was no tomorrow since Tweek’s high school days. Honestly, if Randy Marsh sunk his claws in any deeper, they’d probably rename the whole town in his honor. Tweek just wished Marsh would change his business logo to something better than that stupid fucking towel.

The garage at Tweek’s house was empty when he pulled in, something that was unusual both because his parents didn’t ordinarily bother driving to work and because it wasn’t just the car that was missing. The place was completely cleaned out, no longer cluttered with boxes of old holiday decorations or piles of backup Tweek Bros. gear. Tweek wasn’t sure what to make of it; his parents going on random cleaning benders wasn’t something they usually did. He took advantage of the empty space to stack up some of the bigger items he’d brought home from his dorm room, then set on carrying his most important bags inside. The rest he could deal with later.

The inside of the house looked a little barren too, even if it took a few seconds for Tweek to put his finger on why. Coffee pots still decorated the rooms like lamps, and the family photos hung in the same places they always had. The carpets, though, were freshly cleaned all the way to the baseboards, and the display cabinet his mom kept in the corner of the living room was missing a few items, the remaining china carefully spread out as if to disguise anything was amiss.

If crossing county lines had made Tweek’s anxiety spike, then heading upstairs to his old bedroom made it shoot right through the roof. As a kid he’d grown to hate his room over the years, from the puke yellow walls to the endlessly drafty window to the lumpy, uncomfortable bed passed down from his parents. Some kids saw their rooms as their refuge, but Tweek only associated his with sleepless nights and bad memories. (Other kids probably didn’t almost get kidnapped when they were nine, so that might have had something to do with it.) One of his therapists had suggested this was why Tweek was so cluttered, some primal need to make the spaces he inhabited more familiar. Tweek had thought that assessment was fucking stupid, frankly, but the idea of pulling that argument with Craig did make him laugh. _You see, Craig, I_ have _to leave my dirty laundry on the floor for a week. Doctor’s orders!_

Tweek shook his head like he was trying to toss out his bad thoughts by force, dumping his bags in the corner. He shot a couple of quick texts to his mom and dad to let them know he’d made it into town and almost jumped when his phone buzzed near-instantly in response. _We’re glad you made it home safe, sweetie_ , the text from Helen read. Tweek tried not to feel too deflated when it continued, _Come by the shop so we can catch up! We’re way too crowded here to get away now_ ☹️

Crowded wasn’t exactly a word that could have been used to describe Tweek Bros. in the last few years, especially not since those new coffeehouses had opened up over in Twin Pines Plaza. Again, Tweek felt bad for assuming the worst about his mother. What reason would she have to lie?

He had some things to take care of before he could head over, anyway. Tweek set about Stripe-proofing his room, blocking off the spaces under his furniture and making sure there was nothing laying around on the floor that an enterprising guinea pig might try to munch on. He was able to fit all the models he’d built over the years onto his shelves, save for one—the Tweek Bros. replica he’d put together during his first year of high school. It was a bittersweet memory. Tweek had made it entirely from scratch, drafting the plans and carefully assembling every tiny brick by hand. It was the closest his father had ever come to seeing any value in Tweek’s hobbies, but that had only lasted until the finished product had turned out to be too big to display in the shop. Richard couldn’t have very well given up valuable counter space that could’ve gone to actual _product,_ could he? And so the model had stayed here, gathering dust in the corner of Tweek’s room for the last four years. After a few seconds of hesitation Tweek tossed it into the closet with the rest of the junk, pulling the door shut as the broken pieces clattered to the floor.

Well aware that he was stalling at this point, Tweek walked down the hall to make sure the guest room was in good shape for Craig. When he tried to open the door, however, he was in for a shock—the knob refused to budge. That was weird. His parents had guests over sometimes, but he’d never seen them go to the trouble of locking off the extra rooms. The mystery grew deeper when he went down to the kitchen for the key, only to find it missing from its hook.

Undeterred, Tweek fished a paper clip out of the drawer and marched right back up to the guest room. Determined to hide something in there or not, it was just a cheap indoor lock, and it gave way easily as he used the end of the paper clip to poke around inside. Tweek half-expected his parents to pop out when he opened the door, guns drawn and yelling about how he’d failed some kind of convoluted trust test. Instead, the room was filled with… boxes.

The furniture was all gone and in its place were piles and piles of moving boxes that stretched almost to the ceiling. Here was his mother’s missing china and the clutter from the garage, carefully labelled in stacks that said _Yard Sale_ or _Keep_ written in Sharpie. Tweek sucked in a breath. Holy shit, were his parents selling the house? And they hadn’t _told_ him?

He knew business had been rough lately, but he’d been able to put it in the back of his mind since there’d been ups and downs for as long as he could remember. Maybe this time they were in real financial trouble. Jesus, and here he was whining about money for college when his family might have been on the brink of losing everything. Tweek scrambled out of the room and set course for the coffeehouse, feeling like the world’s worst son.

Even before he got close enough to see through the windows, Tweek could tell his mom’s reports of how busy things were had been an exaggeration. A solitary car was in the parking lot, snow slowly gathering in the empty spots in undisturbed heaps. Notably the car wasn’t his family’s, adding yet another question to the dozens building up in Tweek’s head.

Just as he expected, Tweek pulled open the door to see Tweek Bros. had a single customer. Old Mrs. Crawford, one of their regulars, was sitting in her usual booth and reading a battered romance novel. She glowered at Tweek from over the top of her book when he walked in, as if she thought he was intentionally trying to disturb her with his noisy entrance.

Tweek’s parents emerged from the back of the shop as he approached the counter, flashing wide smiles that betrayed nothing about their current crisis.

“There he is!” Helen said as she drew Tweek in for a hug. Richard followed suit shortly after, a marked difference from how he’d acted the last time they’d seen each other. Tweek tried not to wonder if having a local audience was the reason.

“We expected you’d be here hours ago,” Richard said. Had he thought Tweek was going to get up at the crack of dawn right after a brutal finals week?

Helen nodded. “It must have been quite a trip. Did you have trouble with the GPS again?”

“No, I—never mind that.” It would have been easy to get caught up in an argument with them about Tweek’s driving abilities (or, according to his parents, the lack thereof), but Tweek had more pressing questions. “Can we talk in private?”

“Of course, son,” Richard said, ushering the group into the back room. “We still need to give you the grand tour of our new equipment.”

At a glance, _downgrade_ had certainly been the right word for the changes Richard had made. Tweek recognized the “new” register sitting on the counter as the one with the sticky cash drawer they’d had back when he was in elementary school. As bizarre as that choice was, the back of the shop was somehow even worse. Everything, from the oven to the espresso machines, looked dingier and a good ten years out of date. Richard gestured to the machines with pride. “We got back 60% of the price on our old models and rescued these babies from life in the scrapyard. Can you believe someone was actually going to throw them away?”

“I mean… _yeah_?” Jesus, even the rubber grips on the steam wands looked dangerously worn.

Richard paid Tweek’s answer no mind, patting the top of the espresso machine with more affection than he’d probably ever shown a living human. “We’ve really simplified things around here, Tweek. It’ll be much easier for you now.”

“But _why_?” Tweek asked, his voice a hissed whisper even though he was sure Mrs. Crawford could no longer hear them. “And why do you have half the house packed away? Are you trying to sell it?”

“Of course not.” Helen laid a hand on Tweek’s arm, her smile comforting. “You caught us in the middle of some early spring cleaning.”

“Which you would have known,” Richard said, brows sloping in disapproval, “if you had come and talked to us instead of snooping around. You know how your imagination gets ahead of you, son.”

“But--!” Already things were veering dangerously off course. “If that’s true then where’s your car?”

“Who needs a car to get around in a town like South Park?” Helen asked.

“Part of the changes we’ve been making are in the interest of leaving a smaller carbon footprint,” Richard said. “There are always rentals if we _really_ need to make a trip.”

His parents smiled at him in a calm, close-lipped unison, and a chill crept up Tweek’s spine. He was reminded of a horror movie he’d seen once, about a girl who returned to her childhood hometown to find her old friends and family had all been possessed by demons.

“Please,” Tweek begged. “If something’s going on, just tell me the truth. I promise I can handle it better than you think. If we’re going out of busines or—”

“Calm down, son.” Richard chuckled, his tone so dismissive Tweek might as well have been reporting a ManBearPig sighting. “You always jump to the worst conclusions.”

“Really, Tweek,” Helen said. “You see we’ve cleaned up the house a little and assume the worst? Are your father and I really _that_ messy?”

“But you wanted to pull me out of college out of nowhere!”

“Because we were worried about you,” Richard said. “You always sounded so stressed out and miserable when we talked on the phone.”

“I did?” Tweek blurted, realizing seconds too late that he’d stepped into a trap. “Wait, what part of suddenly telling me I had to quit was supposed to make me _less_ stressed?”

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of time to talk about school later, Tweek.” Helen turned away, pulling Tweek’s old apron from where it still hung on the metal shelving. “Look what we kept! And just where you left it.”

She passed the apron to Tweek with so much warmth in her eyes that, against his better judgment, Tweek accepted it and slipped it over his neck. Tweek’s parents, however, did the opposite, untying their own aprons and reaching for their coats. For all of two seconds, Tweek allowed himself to imagine the best possible scenario: they’d close up early and head home, finally having the long talk Tweek had been promised time and time again.

Then reality kicked in like a punch to the throat. “You’re _leaving_?”

“Well, of course.” Richard adjusted his coat collar, eyes narrowing as if Tweek were the one being unreasonable. “We’ve been here all morning.”

Tweek sputtered, turning his desperate eyes toward his mother. “You said you wanted to see me!”

“We _do_ want to see you, pumpkin.” Helen gave Tweek’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze on her way to the door. “And with you taking care of things here, I’ll have enough time to get a nice dinner ready for us at home. Just like the old days.”

Tweek ground his teeth together. “You guys can’t be serious! I just got here!”

“You should be more grateful for your mother’s hard work, Tweek.” Richard too brushed past him, only pausing long enough to wave a hand vaguely towards the bags of coffee beans. “Now, I know you’re a little out of practice, but on a nice, slow day like this I’m sure it will all come back to you. They say working in a coffeeshop is a lot like riding a bike.”

“Who the fuck would ever say that?!”

Tweek followed them as far as the storefront, raw humiliation burning behind his eyes as he watched them leave. Why had he been stupid enough to let himself hope those texts had meant anything else? Things had _always_ been like this. Sometimes being around his parents made Tweek feel like he was drowning, his lungs filling up with water until one of them finally reached for him, only to make it hurt that much worse when the same hand immediately shoved him back under.

Tweek took a deep, meditative breath, counted down from ten, and then did what any other reasonable young man would have done in his position: he went into the backroom and muffled a scream into his bunched-up apron until he felt like he could once again pass as a functional human being.

He found Mrs. Crawford waiting by the register once he walked back out, plonking her empty cup and a single quarter down on the counter since she believed all coffee should be the price of a refill at Dairy Queen circa 1983. As Tweek moved to fill her cup with the already brewed pot of breakfast blend, the old lady quickly objected. “I want _fresh_ coffee, not that garbage that’s been sitting out all day.”

Tweek put the newly filled cup back down and met her gaze without a flinch. “In that case, you’ll need to pay the four dollars like a real customer.”

It was a short-lived battle of wills, Mrs. Crawford’s eyes flitting to the price board as Tweek smiled pleasantly. With an annoyed grunt, she swiped the coffee Tweek had given her and stomped back to her table, mumbling under her breath about Yelp reviews. Too occupied by replaying his conversation with his parents over in his head, Tweek couldn’t have cared less.

God, he couldn’t believe he’d let them steamroll him so easily. But more than that, they’d obviously been lying. Something _was_ wrong and Tweek was _not_ crazy and—

And it didn’t even fucking matter, did it? His parents didn’t respect him enough, didn’t _trust_ him enough to handle anything more complicated than pouring coffee. They were going to do whatever the fuck they wanted and expect Tweek to come along for the ride.

As the snow began to pour down in earnest and icy gusts rattled the windows, it hit Tweek like a delayed reaction. _This_ was going to be the rest of his life. Regardless of what classes he took or which friends he made, all paths led back to the same outcome: here, rooted to his spot behind the Tweek Bros. counter, watching the world outside go on without him.

The panic that gripped him was so overwhelming that Tweek didn’t realize he’d pulled out his phone until he heard Craig’s confused voice from the other end. “Tweek?”

“Sorry!” Tweek said automatically. It was bad enough that he couldn’t keep his emotions under control, he didn’t need to drag Craig into it too. “I shouldn’t have called, this was really, stupid, I—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine! I’m really sorry, I know you hate—”

“Tweek,” Craig said, more firm this time. “It’s okay. Did something happen?”

“No, I just…” Tweek twisted the strings of his apron around his fingers, searching for an answer that was honest without letting Craig know what a basket case he truly was. “I’m stuck at the shop and wanted a distraction.”

“You’re working already?” Craig sounded incredulous, something Tweek took as justification for how upset he felt. “Didn’t you just get into town?”

Tweek gave a humorless chuckle. “Yep.”

“Is the shop even that busy?”

“Nope.” Mrs. Crawford lifted her head as if she sensed she was being talked about. “I’m pretty sure there’s only been one person here all day.”

“What’s the point in staying open when you’re that slow?” Craig asked.

“My parents always think we’re a few seconds away from the next big rush.” As nice as it was to complain, Tweek knew that calling Craig out of the blue had been silly. “But I still shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“I don’t mind talking to you, Tweek.” As if to prove it, Craig went on before Tweek could get another word in. “So, hey. I worked things out with my parents and it looks like I’ll be able to come to South Park on the 26th.”

“Really? That’s great!” Tweek was too elated to feel self-conscious about sounding overeager. If he had to put up with the uncertainty over his future into the new year Tweek would have—well, he would have handled it, but it would have absolutely _sucked_. “Christ, Craig, I—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re forever in my debt or something. I get it, Tweek.”

Tweek breathed out a soft laugh. “Don’t be an asshole when I’m trying to thank you.”

“Don’t call me an asshole when you’re trying to thank me,” Craig said, clearly unoffended. Tweek could practically hear the smile in his voice.

Deciding that maybe Mrs. Crawford shouldn’t be privy to this conversation, Tweek slipped into the backroom and switched the security camera to watch the front door so he’d be able to spot any customers who walked in. “You know, you’ll be here in time for the annual New Year’s party.”

“Is it fun?”

“Not unless you like watching middle-aged people throw up on themselves and pass out in the street.”

“I’ll bring my camera.”

“Like you’d ever leave that thing behind,” Tweek said. “Anyway, I should probably let you get back to spending time with your family.”

Craig snorted. “Did you forget I’ve been here for a whole day already? I’ve seen enough of them.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tweek said, voice tinged in amusement as he flipped over an empty milk crate to sit on.

“Yeah, I do. Do you hear that?” Craig’s voice sounded distant, like he’d pulled the phone away from his face. In the background, Tweek could make out the faint thrum of upbeat pop music.

“Tricia?” Tweek asked. Even though Craig’s sister was only a couple years younger than them, her music sounded so weird to Tweek’s ears that it might as well have been from centuries into the future.

“Yeah.” Craig seemed to move the phone away again, his voice rising on words that were obviously not meant for Tweek. “And _she won’t turn that **bullshit** down even though her **goddamn brother** has been trying to fucking **sleep**_!”

An angry female voice responded in kind, too muffled for Tweek to make out. He snickered at the exchange. “You should be nice to her. I bet it’s cool to have a sister.”

Craig scoffed. “It’s really not.”

Tweek shook his head even though Craig wasn’t there to see it, and for a few long seconds a comfortable silence lulled between them. Normally in these times, Tweek would have plenty to say to fill in the gaps. Talking wasn’t really Craig’s forte, but he was a surprisingly good listener who genuinely seemed to enjoy being on the receiving end of Tweek’s incessant chatter. At the moment, though, Tweek didn’t have the mental energy to act like his usual self. Somehow, Craig seemed to notice this and picked up the slack. “Did I tell you I got my exam grades back?”

"Oh yeah?"

Craig’s attempt at leading a conversation was awkward and lilting, full of pauses and abrupt changes in subject. To Tweek, the clumsiness made the effort feel even more sweet, but he suspected that if he said as much then Craig would die from embarrassment. Tweek chimed in as he could, but for the most part he was content to listen as Craig rambled on about everything from unfair professors to the surprisingly long list of stupid things Clyde had managed to do in the 24 hours or so since he’d been home. Talking to Craig didn’t make Tweek f _orget_ his problems—no force on earth was that powerful—but it did help to have a reminder that life existed beyond South Park and its bullshit.

Eyes on the security footage, Tweek watched Mrs. Crawford creep up to the register to reclaim her coin before she left for the day. It was then that he noticed how much darker it was outside, and checking his phone revealed the time was already after 5.

“Shit,” Tweek hissed. “I didn’t realize how late it was! I have to let you go so I can close up the shop, but…” He wanted to tell Craig he was sorry for wasting so much of his day, but he knew that would go over about as well as his earlier apologies. “…Thanks, Craig.”

“Sure,” Craig said, nonchalant. “Good luck with all those customers.”

Tweek slipped his phone back into his pocket after ending the connection, standing up and stretching out his sore legs. He was a little tempted to pay his parents back by forgoing cleanup altogether, but he knew it would only be punishing himself since they’d probably find a way to rope Tweek into being the one to open in the morning. He compromised by doing a half-assed job of it, locking the shop up behind him an entire ten minutes before closing time. It was Tweek’s one great act of rebellion.


	4. Chapter 4

Tweek _did_ end up working the opening shift for the next few days, but he chose the hours voluntarily. Mornings were as close to busy as it ever got in Tweek Bros., and keeping up with the flurry of customers as he manned the (contrary to what his dad had said) much-tougher-to-use-equipment helped to stop his mind from running wild. When there was coffee to pour and transactions to ring up, Tweek shifted into autopilot, his brain shutting off as his body carried out the familiar routine. Staying occupied meant that Tweek wouldn’t have to overthink about his parents’ obvious lies or worry about Craig deciding this whole thing was too much trouble or contemplate the looming specter of his future.

And then there was Christmas.

Richard had always seen Christmas as some kind of untapped market, leading to some pretty embarrassing promotional gimmicks. Tweek would never forget that year back in eighth grade when his father had insisted the whole family learn how to draw shotguns as latte art, complete with a social media campaign that had read: _The best weapon against the war on Christmas is supporting local businesses!_

So when his parents had balked at the idea of staying closed for the holiday, Tweek had offered to run the shop by himself. It was easier for everyone that way, he’d figured. Richard and Helen wouldn’t have to keep up the flimsy pretense of wanting him around, and Tweek wouldn’t have to act like he wasn’t stung by their rejection.

“You’re _sure_ you want me to bake as much as usual, Mom?” It was easily the third time Tweek had asked, the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he bent down to pull a tray of muffins out of the oven.

“It wouldn’t do for us to run out of food on Christmas, sweetie.”

“I really don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.” Tweek tried, with marginal success, to keep the exasperation out of his tone. The snow was coming down hard already this morning, something that would have knocked out their chances of doing much business even if it wasn’t a holiday.

“You’re always so cynical, Tweek,” Helen said, making Tweek frown. He didn’t think he was cynical at all. “Now, are you sure you can handle things by yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” In this, at least, Tweek was entirely self-assured. His biggest challenge would be avoiding the urge to curl up and take a nap. “So you and Dad just take it easy and enjoy your day off.”

“We’ll have dinner waiting for you once you're done.” That seemed to be the only promise Helen knew how to make, but closing time was more than twelve hours away. Besides, being surrounded by baked goods all day always made Tweek feel too nauseous to eat much. “And merry Christmas, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” Tweek said, not fast enough to get the words out before his mother ended the call and left him standing alone in the mostly dark kitchen, cheery holiday music echoing faintly from the overhead speakers. “Merry Christmas.”

Tweek sighed, pocketed his phone, and finished the business of getting the shop ready as if it were just another day. His parents’ willingness to waste supplies almost made him wonder if maybe they were telling the truth about not being in financial trouble after all, but it was much more likely that it was all an effort to keep up appearances.

It was stupid for Tweek to feel sad, anyway. He hadn’t been anything close to a practicing Catholic sense he was a preteen—not that his family ever acknowledged it—so what did he care about Christmas? Maybe he was just frustrated that even after spending several days in South Park, he was still no closer to getting any answers about Richard and Helen’s weird behavior. No matter how Tweek tried framing his questions, his parents either dodged or changed the subject, treating him like he was still some easily confused kid who’d forget the whole thing if they kept being evasive. Tweek realized he was playing right into their hands by continuing to come into the shop—he was basically taking on the role of the good little worker bee who didn’t need to know any more than what he was told—but honestly, even that was a welcome alternative to facing down another day full of Richard’s plastic smiles and assurances that everything was exactly as it had always been.

Idly, Tweek wondered if his friends were having a better Christmas than he was.

The Donovans, he knew, had started spending Christmas with the Tuckers ever since Clyde’s mom had died a few years back. Having never met either of their extended families Tweek couldn’t be sure what that table was like, but the word _loud_ came to mind. Then there was Token and Nichole, practically married at nineteen and dividing their holiday time between their respective families and making sure that _Board Girls_ would have a steady stream of content into the new year. And it was impossible to miss what Jimmy was up to—ever since he’d been selected to emcee that toy giveaway in Cherry Creek, he’d been spamming the group text to workshop his material. As terrible as Jimmy’s jokes were, Tweek found himself wishing he’d get one of those messages now. Seeing as it wasn’t even 6 AM yet, however, hearing from any of his friends was simply not going to happen.

Tweek would just have to find his own entertainment. He poured himself a coffee and grabbed a plate of fresh pastries, settling down in a booth with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out over the seat. He had some movies queued up and ready to go on his phone: Santa slashers, a few cheesy Christmas romcoms, and Die Hard—the three essential holiday moods. He’d forgotten to bring his ear buds, but that was okay. It wasn’t like he expected any customers. Tweek propped his phone up against the napkin holder and let the marathon begin. He started with one of the romcoms, thinking it might do something to lift his shitty mood, but soon found he couldn’t make it through more than five minutes of it. The main character was a girl who’d left her long-suffering parents behind for law school, only to return for the holidays to presumably learn lessons about family and true love. _Stay in your miserable small town and never follow your dreams_ wasn’t quite the moral Tweek was looking for today, so he skipped ahead, trading that movie for the more acceptable fare of watching a man in an unconvincing fat suit beat a forty-five-year-old teenager to death with a Styrofoam candy cane. Much better.

Something about being alone in the poorly lit shop, machinery thrumming in the background and the sun only barely starting to rise beyond the mountains, made the tension build even for such an obviously lame horror movie. Tweek was so absorbed in watching it that he didn’t notice the hooded figure approaching from outside until the bell on the front door jingled from the movement. Tweek jolted upright with a surprised squawk, nearly spilling his coffee and sending his phone clattering on the table. In his scramble to grab it, his fingers pressed against the sides and accidentally cranked up the volume as the former professional wrestler playing Santa proceeded to murder a pretty young coed with a string of Christmas lights.

“How’s that for a jingle bell _shock_ ,” Santa’s voice boomed from the speaker, followed by some overdone electrocution sound effects and the actress screaming loud enough to give a porn star a run for her money.

“Wow, Tweek.” Kenny McCormick, eyes flashing with amusement behind his drawn hood and carefully wrapped scarf, looked down at him. “You’re really getting into the holiday spirit.”

“Shut up,” Tweek muttered without heat, finally hitting the pause button. “I didn’t expect anyone to actually come in.”

“You _are_ open, right?” Kenny pointed to the sign, still glowing in the pre-dawn light.

Tweek nodded. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then you think I could get a coffee?”

“Oh! Uh, sure!” Tweek felt his face heat up as he climbed out of the booth. Jesus, why was he just staring at a customer like an idiot instead of doing his job? Yeah, it was early, but that was no excuse. “What kind?”

Even without turning to see Kenny, Tweek could hear the shrug in his voice. “The biggest size in the cheapest thing you’ve got. Our machine at home picked a hell of a day to break and everywhere else is closed.”

_Because everywhere else has standards_ , Tweek thought. He slid behind the counter and fetched an extra-large cup for Kenny’s drink. “What are you doing out here so early, anyway?”

“You’re not the only one who has to work today, dude.”

“Sorry,” Tweek said, wincing in sympathy. He filled the cup with the rest of the coffee he’d brewed for himself and snapped on the lid. “I can’t believe you’re the first person from school I’ve ran into since I’ve been in town. What’s everyone else up to?”

“Let’s see…” Kenny leaned in closer, counting off the usual suspects on his fingers. Tweek didn’t need names to follow along. “On some brother roadtrip in Canada, making his mom take him on a,” Kenny held up his hands to do air quotes, “‘better vacation than Kyle’s,’and probably going crazy from being stuck with his dad all month.”

Tweek put the coffee down and moved to the register to ring up Kenny’s purchase. “Stan’s not staying with his mom this year?”

“He probably would have if he’d known no one else was gonna be around.” Kenny said, handing Tweek a five-dollar bill. “And you know Stan. He misses this place more than he lets on.”

Tweek got a good look at Kenny as he counted out his change, and even with all the usual layers, his appearance was rough up close. Dark circles lingered under his bloodshot eyes and he had a slumped, uneasy sort of posture, like even standing up was painful. Tweek wondered if Kenny was working himself too hard or if he was sick again. Back in fourth grade, Kenny had been so ill that he’d been kept in the hospital for _weeks_. Everyone had been so convinced he was going to die that after a while, Kenny’s friends had come looking to Tweek to be his “replacement”. They’d all been stupid kids and Tweek knew it wasn’t _his_ fault that Kenny hung out with jerks, but ever since then he’d felt as if he’d done Kenny some great injustice by taking part.

“Sometimes it’s hard to see why,” Tweek said. Then, before Kenny could start to leave, he gestured to the pastry display. “Do you want any food to take with you?”

Kenny, always prideful, immediately started to shake his head. “Tweek—”

“Please,” Tweek cut him off. “My parents wanted me to bake enough to fill the whole counter. If no one takes them, they’re just going to end up in the trash.”

Practicality won out, and Kenny’s expression softened. “All right, dude. I hope your cooking is as good as your mom’s.”

“Not even close,” Tweek admitted, stuffing a to-go box with an assortment of pastries. “Even when we’re following the same recipes.”

“Hey,” Kenny said. “If you’re serious about all that stuff going to waste…”

“I am!”

“I know Karen would take the leftovers. She thinks she’s the fucking saint of SoDoSoPa or something now with how she keeps trying to feed everyone.” Kenny was obviously going for irritated, but an overwhelming fondness for his baby sister bled into every word.

Tweek nodded eagerly, bagging up Kenny’s food and setting it next to the coffee. “Send her my way. Seriously, man, it’d be doing me a favor.”

“Thanks, Tweek.” Kenny slipped the handles of the bag over his wrist and grabbed the coffee with his other hand, throwing an awkward wave to Tweek in the process. “I’d love to stay and catch up, but it would suck to get fired on Christmas. We should hang out sometime.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Tweek said, waving back as he watched him go. He doubted Kenny really meant it, but the sentiment was nice.

* * *

To Tweek’s credit, he’d been mostly right about how dead business would be. The only other customers who’d shown up were a couple of cops who’d apparently had the misfortune of working the Christmas beat. They’d cleared out pretty quickly once Tweek had refused to serve them for free, affronted that some people in this town had a business to run.

When it became clear no one else was going to drop in—and he’d had his fill of shitty Christmas movies—Tweek started the process of closing down. It was only 5:30, but it wasn’t like there was going to be a mad rush of South Parkers trying to get their caffeine fix in that last half hour. Tweek boxed up all the remaining food from the counter as neatly as he could and headed out to his car. He hadn’t heard anything from Karen, but maybe Kenny would be home by now. Tweek still had the old coffee maker from his dorm room sitting in the trunk, and it would do Kenny a lot more good than it would do him. Besides, he could always swipe another one from the house.

That was the logic that led to Tweek showing up on the McCormick’s doorstep shortly after closing, bags of pastry boxes in one arm and a coffee pot tucked under the other, trying fruitlessly to knock on the door with his elbow.

The door eventually creaked open a few hesitant inches, Karen’s face staring back at him from the gap. “Tweek?”

“Hi, Karen.” As awkwardly loaded down as he was, Tweek did his best to sound friendly. Short for her age and still sporting a pigtailed hairdo well into her teens, there was something about Karen that brought out the inner older sibling instinct in everyone who met her. It was hard to believe she’d be college age soon herself. “Is Kenny home? I have some stuff for you guys.”

Karen shook her head but she opened the door and ushered Tweek in. Behind her, Kevin lurked in the hallway glowering suspiciously. “Kenny’s at work right now.”

“Still?” On Christmas?

Karen nodded, leading Tweek to the kitchen where he placed the items he’d brought on the counter.

“Kenny said yours was broken.” Tweek pointed at the coffee maker before turning his attention to the bags. “And that you’d know what to do with these.”

Karen leaned forward to poke through the bags, her face lighting up in a big grin. “This is great, Tweek! There’s enough for everyone!”

“You’re collecting food for all the homeless people out back?” Right away, Tweek regretted his choice of words. ‘Out back’ implied SoDoSoPa was some sprawling property the McCormicks owned and not the decrepit ruins of a failed rejuvenation project that hovered over the poorest neighborhood in town like an angry giant.

Karen nodded, not seeming to take offense. “My brothers make sure we have enough to eat, but not everyone is that lucky.” 

“Your brothers?” Tweek asked. “What about your parents?”

Karen looked away while Kevin’s posture stiffened. Kevin shoved his hands into his jean pockets and glared at Tweek like he was personally responsible for their misfortunes. “Don’t you know?”

“He’s been away,” Karen said, silencing her brother with a glare. She drew her arms closer like she had a chill, her voice soft and quiet when she spoke. “Mom and Dad got arrested again about a month ago. So it’s just us now.”

Tweek opened his mouth as his brain raced for something to say that felt sufficient. After a few seconds he managed, “I’m sorry.”

Karen forced a smile. “It’s okay. I think we’re all kinda used to it by now, you know? It’s like there’s something in the water in South Park that makes everyone’s parents act shitty.”

Tweek laughed weakly, unable to argue but also not entirely comfortable with the solidarity reflected in Karen’s eyes. At any rate, he’d intruded enough on the McCormicks’ night, so Tweek hastily said his goodbyes and headed back out to his car feeling more confused than ever.

It was an open secret that Kenny had put his own life on hold in the name of making sure his sister was provided for, and now he was working shifts that made Tweek’s 13-hour days look like a joke in comparison. Shouldn’t Tweek be just as willing to support his family? Hell, shouldn’t he _want_ to? Then again… no one was forcing Kenny’s hand. That, Tweek decided, was what upset him the most. If his parents had _told_ him they were having trouble, he probably would have offered to sacrifice his college fund to come home and help. Instead, they’d ripped the choice out of his hands to treat him like some appliance they could switch on and off at their leisure. Refusing to take that kind of manipulation without fighting back didn’t make him a horrible person, did it?

Tweek growled under his breath as he started his car, still no closer to understanding what the right thing to do was. He thought back to all those corny holiday movies where the hero always got some kind of sign or Christmas miracle to show him the way and wished, however impossibly, that just once real life could be that simple too.

* * *

Disappointed that Tweek’s presence hadn’t drastically driven up profits over the last week, Richard and Helen made December 26th a family affair at the coffeehouse. Not only did they both come in to help open, but they also handed out instructions like it was Tweek’s first day on the job, peppering in plenty of backhanded compliments about how he shouldn’t blame himself for their poor sales numbers. For once, though, it wasn’t them who had Tweek worked up. No, today Tweek’s problem was Craig. It was already a quarter after noon and there’d still been no word from him. Craig hadn’t given an exact time for when he’d be coming to South Park, but he’d promised Tweek that he’d try to get there relatively early. (Partially, Tweek knew, because he wanted to get out of his share of cleaning up the post-Christmas mess left in the Tucker house.) So while Tweek didn’t expect to _see_ Craig just yet, it was strange that he hadn’t so much as texted.

Not wanting to be pushy, Tweek had limited his own texting to a simple good morning message. The _read at 11: 51 AM_ stared back at him like a mockery. Normally, Craig never left him hanging like this. Had he changed his mind? Had something happened? The roads were getting awfully icy—what if Tweek had doomed Craig by even asking him to come?

Tweek scrubbed the table in front of him with renewed vigor, like maybe if he cleaned it hard enough he could wipe away all the fears rising up in his head. _Fifteen minutes_ , he told himself. Fifteen more minutes and then he’d text Craig again just to make sure he was okay. Bailing on Tweek was one thing, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Craig actually being hurt.

“So.” A voice startled Tweek from his thoughts and he looked up to find David Rodriguez smirking at him from across the table. “You’ve seriously been in town for a week and you didn’t even say hi?”

“I’ve been working!” Tweek dropped the rag and gestured to the shop. “You of all people know how _that_ is.”

That mutual understanding had been at least half the reason the two of them had been such good friends in high school. Well, at least until Tweek had fucked things up.

If David felt any lingering sense of discomfort he didn’t show it now, grinning playfully as he waved his phone in Tweek’s face. “Funny that working’s never made me forget how to text people.”

Tweek could feel his parents’ eyes on him from behind the counter, undoubtedly about to tell him to stop slacking off. Tweek beat them to the punch. “I’m taking fifteen!”

Tweek undid his apron, tossed it on the first available table, and led David outside.

“So what’s the deal with you?” David asked. “One day I hear you’re moving back home because you flunked out of school, the next you’re getting married or something?”

“Flunked out of—Jesus Christ, I have a 4.0!” Tweek threw his hands out in frustration.

David raised an eyebrow. “But the marriage thing is true?”

“No! I—” Tweek stepped in closer, looking back and forth over his shoulders to make sure no one else was around to hear. He trusted David well enough, and Tweek didn’t need the stress of lying to _everyone_. “Look, can you keep a secret?”

“Tweek. What the fuck did you do, dude?”

Tweek took a deep breath, twirling the ends of his shirt between his fingers. “My parents always said I could go to college.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“You don’t understand. They _promised_ me. And I’ve been looking forward to it my whole life! But then, all of a sudden, they changed their minds and said I had to come home.”

“So, what? You’re running away with one of your professors or something?”

Tweek laughed. “I wish.” It’d be less convoluted than the truth. “They wouldn’t even think about letting me go back until I told them I have a boyfriend. Except I _don’t_ have a boyfriend. So I. Um.” Tweek curled his hands into fists and blurted out the rest so fast it might as well have all been a single word. “Asked-my-roommate-to-come-to-town-and-pretend-that-we’re-dating-for-a-week.”

David blinked. “Dude.”

“I know!”

“ _Dude._ ”

“ _I know_!”

“Tweek.” David looked stunned, which was saying something for a guy who’d spent his formative years in South Park. “You realize how fucked up that is, right?”

“Of course I do!” Tweek paced a few steps down the sidewalk then whirled back around. “And you know what the worst part is? I’m not even sure if I should go through with it anymore!”

“Why not?”

Tweek lowered his voice. “Mom and Dad are having money trouble. I thought they were being unfair, but it turns out they might really need my help.”

“Did you talk to them about it?”

“I’ve tried. But you know what they’re like, man. They just keep acting like everything’s great and that I’m crazy for asking.”

“It kinda sounds like you’ve done all you can do then, Tweek,” David said. “You can’t force them to let you help.”

“I can’t abandon them either.” Tweek peered through the glass, watching his parents bustle around inside.

“I don’t know if I'd call wanting to go to school abandoning them, dude. You’re allowed to have your own life.”

“You stayed to help _your_ family.”

“I’m taking a gap year before I move to the other side of the country,” David said with a laugh. “It’s really not the same thing.”

Tweek should have been reassured to hear David, whose situation was as close to his as anyone in town, be the one to say those words, but the wall of guilt that had risen up around Tweek’s heart was not so easily broken.

Seeming to pick up on this, David added, “You know what? I don’t think this fake boyfriend thing is even your biggest problem right now.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” David jerked his head towards the shop. “Your real problem is that you’ve gotta make up your mind: do you not want to work here right now, or do you not want to work here _ever_?”

Holy shit, talk about going right for the throat. Mercifully, Tweek was saved from having to come up with a response by the sudden ringing of his phone. Fumbling to get it out of his pocket, his heart seized to see the name on the display. “It’s my roommate!” Tweek slammed the button to pick up. “Craig! Hi!”

“Hey Tweek.” Craig sounded the same as he always did, his voice not giving away any sign of great distress. “So I guess you can say I told you so about my car.” Someone, probably Tricia, mimicked the sound of an explosion in the background. “The transmission is completely fucked. I’m not gonna be making any long trips anytime soon.”

Tweek deflated, no longer listening as Craig kept talking. As conflicted as he’d been about going through with the plan, he’d still wanted the decision to be his. Now, though, it had been made for him. His parents would keep him here forever. If the shop went under, they’d probably sell the house and move into a studio apartment together where Tweek would spend the rest of his life being woken up at 3 AM to hear his father give speeches about family unity. Tweek took solace in the fact that at least he didn’t think Craig was lying—after all, Craig was the kind of guy who probably would have told Tweek point blank if he’d changed his mind and wanted out. Still, he wouldn’t have blamed Craig for ditching him.

“Tweek? Are you there?” Craig asked, jarring him out of his pity party.

“Yeah, sorry. I understand, Craig.”

“If you can’t come then I can get a ride from Token,” Craig said. “But he won’t be back in town until tomorrow.”

Tweek’s heart leapt. “You want me to come get you?”

“I mean, you wanna get this over with as fast as possible, right? But it’s okay if you’re too busy.”

“No, I’m not too busy!” Tweek nodded vigorously, barely aware that he was probably making David think he was more crazy than usual. “I can come right now if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll text you my address.”

“Great!” Tweek said. “I’ll be there soon. Bye, Craig.”

David stared at Tweek as he hung up, looking like he had no idea what to make of that whole performance.

“We can talk later, I’ve gotta go get him before he changes his mind.” Tweek made it about two steps before a realization slammed into him with the force of a truck. “Oh God, wait. Does this mean I’m gonna have to meet _his_ parents?”

David sucked in a breath through his teeth, shaking his head. “Good fucking luck, man.”


	5. Chapter 5

If Tweek was lucky, he would arrive in Denver to find Craig entirely packed, ready to go, and willing to meet Tweek at his car before they ran into another soul.

Tweek was _never_ lucky, though, so he had to consider the possibility of crossing paths with at least one member of the Tucker family, if not the entire clan. He flexed his fingers against the steering wheel as he turned his eyes to where he’d clipped his phone to the dashboard, the monotonous voice of the GPS leading him closer and closer to Craig’s neighborhood. Tweek had been so preoccupied with his own parents that he’d never bothered to ask what Craig had told _his_ , something he now deeply regretted. South Park was not exotic or far away enough to qualify as any kind of vacation, so why, exactly, did the Tuckers think their son was going to go shack up with his college roommate there for a week? It was hard for Tweek to come up with any excuses that felt believably platonic, and strange as it was, he didn’t like the idea of Craig’s family thinking badly of him.

Not that Tweek really knew what the Tuckers thought about _anything_. What little knowledge he had of them had come from two main sources: Token’s stories about their childhoods and firsthand from Craig himself.

Token had been the most direct, once describing Craig’s parents as “nice, as long as you don’t talk about politics,” which was about as close as you could get to calling someone a thin-skinned conservative without saying the quiet part out loud. When Tweek had looked alarmed, Token had tried to elaborate. “They’re the kind of family who puts on their ‘I heart my gay son’ t-shirts to go and vote Republican,” Token had explained. “I feel like half the shit they say is just habit at this point, you know? They don’t really mean it. But as weird as they are, they do care about Craig a lot.”

It was obvious, however hard Craig might insist otherwise, that he cared for them right back. Without fail, Craig called home on Fridays at 7 PM sharp, and on rarer occasions, would video chat with his family when Thomas had some new project or purchase to show off. These conversations were the most revealing, since Craig would rely on his laptop’s speakers when he didn’t want to get up to fetch his headphones. It wasn’t like Tweek intended to eavesdrop or anything, but with their beds only a few feet apart and little else in the room to distract him, there’d been nights when he hadn’t been able to help overhearing. The talks were usually mundane, with the notable and extreme exception of the time when Thomas had asked if Craig had found a new boyfriend yet. Tweek had been kind of shocked to learn that Craig wasn’t straight, not really because of anything Craig had or hadn’t done, but because Jimmy and Clyde threw slurs around with such wild abandon that Tweek had assumed the whole group believed gay people were something that only existed on TV.

If Craig had been alarmed by being shoved out of the closet, his dry tone of voice hadn’t shown it. “I haven’t met anyone, Dad. But you just outed me to my roommate, so thanks for that.”

Craig’s dad had bumbled through an apology before landing on, “Craig, if someone doesn’t accept you then they aren’t worth your time to begin with.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Craig had said, refusing to entertain the topic any further. “Bye.”

With that, Tweek had given up on pretending to scroll through his phone to muffle a laugh behind his hand. He’d waited for Craig to end the connection before he’d said, “Your family seems nice.”

Craig had closed his laptop but otherwise remained motionless in bed, looking straight ahead rather than at Tweek. “When I first told my dad I was gay, he got up and walked out of the room.”

Tweek’s smile had fallen and for a moment he’d held his breath, afraid the story was going to take a sad turn. But then Craig had sighed in a way that had sounded fond and exasperated all at the same time. “And I’m pretty sure he’s been trying to make up for it by embarrassing me as much as possible ever since.”

“Don’t feel too bad, man,” Tweek had said, figuring it was only fair to let Craig know he wasn’t alone. “The first time I went out with a guy, my parents made us sit right by the window at the coffeeshop so everyone outside could see us holding hands.”

“Holy shit, Tweek.” Craig had looked up then, and Tweek had felt oddly proud of himself for getting his attention. “What did your boyfriend think about that?”

“I don’t know.” Tweek had shrugged, then flashed a smile to make it clear the situation was old news and okay to laugh at. “He never spoke to me again afterwards.”

If nothing else, Tweek’s childhood horror stories made for surprisingly good icebreakers.

Even if they’d never actually admitted it, he and Craig had been more relaxed around each other after that. Before Craig, Tweek had never truly realized how exhausting it was to hang out with straight people all the time—straight guys _especially_ , who seemed to have been born with a compulsion to sprinkle in a little discomfort even when they were being otherwise supportive. Rooming with someone who wasn’t as unobtainable as he’d first appeared had had its complications too, of course; Craig was attractive in that classically tall, dark, and handsome sort of way, even with the braces he’d still had on his teeth for the first two months Tweek had known him. Tweek had spent more than a few nights staring up at his ceiling, the words _off limits_ echoing in his head until he’d convinced himself that Craig could never be boyfriend material. Tweek had wasted enough of his life trying to coax warmth out of his parents, there was no way in hell he was going to do the same thing with a partner.

“In three hundred feet,” the GPS droned, reminding Tweek his time was up, “your destination will be on the right.”

Tweek didn’t need an app to tell him that. He could see Craig standing in the driveway of a house up ahead, and because the universe was feeling particularly vengeful today, he wasn’t alone. Two people who had to be Craig’s father and sister were next to him, the trio gathered around Craig’s recently deceased Mercury Bobcat with the hood popped open to presumably assess the damage. Tweek killed the engine to his own car as he pulled up beside them, taking in the sight. It was one thing to know that Craig was adopted and another to see him framed in direct contrast to a couple of redheads so fair-skinned they looked like they might burn to a crisp if the clouds decided to part. Height, at least, was something they all had in common. Tweek had never thought of tallness as a facet of nurture over nature, but the Tuckers made an argument for it. Even Craig’s little sister was practically Amazonian in stature, and Tweek silently prayed that she wasn’t as big as him.

The house itself looked like a picture of suburban normalcy, save for the copious number of American flags poking out of the flower beds, with a much larger one mounted over the garage. (Tweek hadn’t figured out the exact math yet, but you could tell a lot about a family by the ratio of flags to humans on their property.) A faded rainbow sticker clung to one of the upstairs windows like an act of defiance, and Tweek had no doubt that room must have belonged to Craig.

For a few long seconds, Tweek sat in his car wondering what he was supposed to do. Should he stay put or was that rude? Should he get out to wait? Should he say hi to Craig’s family? Oh God, was he making it weirder by hesitating? Did they hate him already?

Craig rescued Tweek from his indecision by beckoning him over with a wave. Tweek climbed out of the car and approached the group, smoothing down his shirt and wishing he’d stopped to change out of his coffee-stained work outfit. While he was relieved to note that Tricia only came up to his shoulders, it was less of a comfort to be standing in the shadow of Thomas Tucker, a man just as tall as Craig and easily twice as wide. Worse yet, Tweek could feel everyone’s eyes on him, sizing him up and silently passing judgment on the unkempt weirdo who was about to spirit Craig away for the week. By this point Tweek had learned how to read Craig pretty well, but Thomas and Tricia’s similar brand of stoicism was a complete mystery, like hearing a familiar song translated into a new language.

“This is Tweek,” Craig said, the simplistic introduction giving away nothing about who he’d said Tweek actually was. “Tweek, this is my dad and my sister.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” The words left Tweek like a reflex.

Thomas nodded firmly in response, but his eyes held only confusion. “You’re Craig’s new boyfriend?”

Tweek could have sworn he felt his heart stop. Then, before he could confirm or deny, Craig said, “ _Fake_ boyfriend. We’re pretending to be together so his parents won’t make him drop out of college.”

 _Oh_. Tweek almost laughed. Telling his family what they were up to outright was such a _Craig_ thing to do. Why had Tweek even considered it would go any other way? He felt some of the tension melt out of his shoulders to spite himself. Craig’s straightforward, no frills honesty had a strange way of putting him at ease, even if he felt sorry for Craig’s poor father.

“Uh,” Thomas said, his face scrunched up like he was trying to work out a complicated math equation in his head. “Right.”

Tricia, at least, took the whole thing in stride. “It figures a fake boyfriend is the best Craig could do.” She looked Tweek up and down, smirking like there was something hilarious about his appearance. Instead of letting anyone else in on the joke, Tricia turned her gaze to her brother. “You’re so fucking predictable.”

“You’re going to South Park…” Thomas rubbed his chin as if he’d remembered something important. “Hey, isn’t that where Governor Garrison is from?”

“ _Ex_ -governor,” Tricia corrected while Tweek hoped against hope that Craig’s dad wasn’t one of _those_.

Thomas bristled, his face breaking out in splotches red enough to rival his hair. “That election was _rigged_ —”

“Sorry, Tweek.” Tricia leaned over the car to address Tweek directly, prompting him to freeze like a deer in headlights. “They didn’t teach kids how to count back when Dad was in school.”

Tweek worked his mouth, unsure of what to say or how to deal with the sudden attention. The last thing he wanted was to be in the middle of another family’s intergenerational drama, and one wrong move would ostracize him from their good graces forever.

“Come on.” Craig tugged on Tweek’s sleeve. “My stuff is in the living room.”

_Oh, thank God._

Tweek followed Craig into the house, taking the opportunity to look around. From the warm brown walls to the well-worn furniture, the home was almost exactly what he would have expected from the place where Craig had grown up. While the Christmas decorations were plentiful, the living room was devoid of any excessive displays of patriotism, bringing to mind what Token had said about the Tuckers being primarily concerned with keeping up appearances. Slowly, curiosity began to overtake Tweek’s apprehension. He was most interested in the family photos dotting the walls; there were several of Tricia flipping off the camera in a way that would have done her brother proud, as well as an assortment of Craig at various stages of teenage awkwardness, including one that appeared to be from Craig’s senior prom, the face of his date scribbled over in angry lines of Sharpie. Tweek’s eyes settled on an image of a much younger, more chubby-cheeked Craig standing in front of the Grand Canyon, his expression utterly blank even as his parents beamed cheerfully behind him. Tweek couldn’t hold back a teasing grin. “You haven’t changed a bit. Even your hat looks the same.”

Craig shrugged. “I like what I like.”

As promised, Craig’s things were resting at the bottom of the stairs. Stripe was in a smaller, more travel friendly cage and beside him was a backpack and a duffel bag that, if Tweek were to wager a guess, was probably full of nothing but guinea pig accessories.

Tweek hurried over to the cage and dropped to his knees, lifting up the lid to stick in his hand as Stripe bounded forward for attention. Unlike Craig, Tweek had never been one of those guys who got all gooey for animals, but being reunited with Stripe filled him with a giddy sort of affection.

“Aw,” Tweek cooed as Stripe rubbed his fingers in that way that made him want to melt into the floor. “I think he missed me.”

“Great.” Craig crossed his arms and did a terrible job of pretending to be annoyed. “Now he’s going to be riled up for the whole trip.”

“Or he’s just hungry.” If Craig wanted to act like a hardass, Tweek could play that game too. He turned away from Craig, speaking directly to Stripe in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “Is Craig starving you again?”

“I don’t starve him,” Craig said automatically, unable to resist taking the bait. “You overfeed him. If we left it up to you, he’d be the size of a goddamn basketball.”

“Don’t worry, Stripe.” Tweek ignored Craig, carefully petting Stripe’s back. “I have some baby carrots waiting for you in my fridge. Those nice organic ones Craig’s always too cheap to buy.”

Craig threw up his hands as Tweek bit back a laugh, but whatever counterargument he had was waylaid by the sudden presence of a blonde woman stalking into the room. While still statuesque, she wasn’t _quite_ as tall as the other two. Her expression, though, stern and somehow disinterested at the same time, was classic Tucker.

In the space of a second, the atmosphere plunged into tension, all traces of their play argument shattering on contact. Laura’s eyes raked over Tweek in such a distinctly unimpressed manner it made him feel about two inches tall. Tweek swallowed nervously before attempting to introduce himself. “You must be Mrs. Tucker. I’m—”

Laura ignored him, head whipping around to Craig. “You’re still going through with this?”

“Mom—”

“You’ve done some stupid things before, Craig, but this is unbelievable.” Laura clearly didn’t share her husband’s confusion or her daughter’s amusement—she radiated scalding, motherly disapproval. Disapproval that she didn’t hesitate to turn on Tweek. “And _you_. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, dragging my son into your bullshit—"

“ _Mom_ ,” Craig said again, his face going pink with faint embarrassment. Shooting Tweek a strained, somewhat apologetic smile, he gently took Laura by the arm to guide her into the kitchen where the two of them argued in hushed voices. If it wasn’t for Stripe rustling around in his hay, Tweek might have almost been able to make out what they were saying. He didn’t mean to stare, but he felt rooted to the spot, afraid that moving even a single muscle would upset the delicate balance of the situation and make things worse.

After a few long, tense moments that seemed to drag on forever, the debate finally cooled down. Laura’s posture slackened like she was admitting defeat, but Tweek saw her flash her middle finger his way before she disappeared into the kitchen. She was definitely Craig’s mom, all right.

“Anyway,” Craig said as he walked back into the room, looking miffed but eager to move on. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Craig, are you sure that’s okay?”

Craig waved a hand dismissively, shoving his duffel bag into Tweek’s arms as he gathered his backpack and Stripe’s cage. “It’s fine. She’s like that sometimes.”

Unease coiled in Tweek’s stomach as the two of them made their way back to his car, tossing Craig’s bags into the backseat. (Stripe would, of course, stay up front with his father.) Tricia and Thomas bade them goodbye on the way out, with the latter stopping to shake Tweek’s hand, clearly still unsure of what Tweek’s relationship was with his son but wanting to cover all his bases.

For his part, Craig seemed to forget about being annoyed after only a few minutes of being on the road. It wasn’t so easy for Tweek. He clutched the steering wheel tighter, thinking not only of Craig’s mom, but also of Token’s warning to be careful. At the time he’d taken it as Token fearing Tweek and Craig would ruin their friendship or blow the whole thing, but now he wasn’t as certain. Sure, his plan was crazy, but Laura had seemed genuinely concerned for her son’s wellbeing. Tweek had been so caught up in worrying about his own future that he hadn’t considered he might be putting Craig through something difficult.

Eventually, the not knowing ate away at him. Tweek blurted out, “Have you done this before?”

“Been in a car?” Craig deadpanned.

Tweek groaned, grinding his teeth together since he couldn’t fidget and drive at the same time. “The fake dating thing!”

“Tweek.” Craig turned to look at him this time, but his mouth was still a flat line. “How many situations do you think I’ve been in where it would have done me any favors to act even _more_ gay?”

“I don’t know! Just—Your mom seemed really worried.” Like maybe a fake boyfriend had run over Craig’s dog or something.

“It’s a mom thing. I mean, you have to admit what we're doing is pretty weird.”

“If you want to change your mind, it still isn’t too late to go back,” Tweek said. “I know I put a lot of pressure on you out of nowhere.”

“I haven’t changed my mind.” As if to show how unbothered he was, Craig went back to soothing Stripe through the bars of the cage in his lap. “It’ll be fine, Tweek. I’m only gonna be there for a few days.”

Tweek bit his lip, unconvinced. It wasn’t lost on him that his attempt to check up on Craig was quickly reversing into Craig reassuring _him_ instead.

“Besides,” Craig went on, apparently keen to change the subject. “It’d be dumb to quit after I’ve put so much work into getting my character down.” Craig rested his hands on top of Stripe’s cage, watching the road with a dead-eyed stare as his voice dropped flatter than Tweek had ever heard it. “I’m Craig Tucker, I love small businesses and hate long-distance relationships.”

Tweek pressed his lips together in an effort to fight off a smile, the corners of his mouth betraying him. “That’s what you’re gonna tell my Mom and Dad, huh?”

“Nah. You made it sound more like that’s what _you_ were gonna tell them while I stand there and look pretty.”

Half a dozen smartass responses sprang to Tweek’s mind, but he swallowed them down in favor of shooting Craig a wry look. “You know what? Because you’re basically saving my life here, I’m gonna let that one go.”

“Wow,” Craig said. “Christmas really makes you generous.”

As the miles continued to pass without any objections from Craig, Tweek tried to focus on the future and let go of his doubts. He couldn’t make their circumstances less shitty or bizarre, but if nothing else he could try to prove that he wasn’t taking Craig’s help for granted. With Craig’s Bobcat out of commission, maybe Tweek’s original idea of giving up his car would work out after all. Craig was sensitive about his beloved piece of junk, though, so the topic had to be broached carefully. “I was thinking… I’m not really gonna need my car when we get back to campus. With yours not working…” Tweek waited for Craig to pick up on the hint, but he only stared back silently. Tweek pressed on. “…Maybe you could take it?”

“My family isn’t _that_ broke.” Craig looked a touch offended. “My dad’s gonna check on some leads about used cars for me while I’m gone this week.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Tweek protested. “It’s not that you _can’t_ get a new car, but wouldn’t taking mine be easier?”

“No,” Craig said, offering no further explanation.

Tweek kept a steady grip on the wheel while the rest of his body slumped in frustration. That was about the response he’d expected from Craig. “I feel bad because you’re doing so much for me and I don’t have anything else to offer right now. I don’t start my new job until January, and that’s _if_ I even get it.”

“I told you already.” Craig looked out the window in a way that made it impossible to see his face, his voice going soft and carrying a sad sort of finality Tweek couldn’t even begin to understand. “I don’t want anything from you, Tweek.”

* * *

Tweek pulled into his driveway around 5 PM, giving him and Craig at least an hour before his parents would be home from work. That was plenty of time to do the essentials like taking Craig on a quick tour, getting Stripe fed and settled, and, most importantly, for Tweek to sit on the edge of his bed and desperately try not to hyperventilate.

Holy fucking fuck, they were actually doing this. It was one thing to have this crazy-ass idea in theory and quite another for Craig to be standing in the bedroom of his childhood home, casually examining Tweek’s model collection and about to step into the role of his pretend boyfriend. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Craig to act unflappable, but Jesus Christ, if there was anything that could get to Craig, Tweek thought this would be it.

“I knew you were really into this, but damn,” Craig said, leaning closer to one of Tweek’s modified tank builds, an M47 Patton base reimagined with a retro-futuristic twist. “Are these the ones you designed yourself?”

Tweek nodded. Under better circumstances he’d have been happy to have an excuse to talk about the specific kits he’d mixed together to build his custom creations, but at the moment his brain could only focus on one thing. “Craig, do you really think we should do this?”

Craig gave up on the models and moved to sit by Tweek with a frown. “You’re having second thoughts _now_?”

“No! Yes? I mean— I don’t know!” This was it. Their last chance to get their story straight, their last chance to practice, their last chance to address anything that might trip them up. The pressure was mounting, and Tweek’s entire future was on the line. “There are so many things that could go wrong!”

“Tweek.” Craig sounded calm, like he was in control even now. “They only think we’ve been dating for a few months. It’s not like they’re expecting a married couple.”

“That’s true,” Tweek said. A few small mistakes might actually make them seem more believable. “It’d be suspicious if we acted _too_ perfect.”

“Yeah,” Craig agreed. “So don’t overthink it.”

“That’s kind of my specialty.”

Craig snorted a laugh, nudging Tweek with his elbow. “I know you’re convinced I’m gonna screw this up, but I’ve had to hang out with my real boyfriends’ parents before. I think I can manage it with a fake one.”

“I’m not worried about _you_ , Craig.” Tweek doubted any of those other families were as crazy as his, but Craig would see that for himself soon enough. Tweek’s phone buzzed with an incoming text and he fished it from his pocket.

“It’s my mom,” he said, looking from the screen to Craig. “They’re in such a hurry to meet you they’re gonna close the shop up early.”

“Do they ever do that?”

“Nope.” On one hand it hurt that Tweek’s parents hadn’t been half as excited to see him, but on the other it made perfect sense. As Tweek’s potential husband, they were evaluating Craig as the true heir to their coffee empire. Of course they’d drop everything to get to him as soon as possible. “I hope you like shitty Chinese food, because they want to take us to dinner.”

Contact from Tweek’s parents seemed to be the push that made the situation finally feel real to Craig; although he didn’t say anything, Tweek caught the uptick of nervous energy in the way he worked his jaw.

Craig pulled off his hat, using his fingers to straighten out the hair he styled so carefully every day just to hide under that chullo. It was then that Tweek finally took a good look at what Craig was wearing now that he'd discarded his heavy coat: new shoes, nice jeans, and a red button-up over top of a fitted t-shirt. Tweek didn’t think he’d ever seen him in anything quite so put together. Craig normally lived in baggy hoodies since his student job didn’t have much of a dress code.

It took Tweek a few seconds to realize he was staring. “Wow, you look really good.”

“You could sound less surprised.”

“I didn’t think you’d dress up!”

“Is that okay?” Craig shifted in his seat, looking a little awkward. “I figured if I was really going to meet a guy’s parents I’d try to make a good impression.”

“No, it’s…” Good? Great? Did that sound weird? Jesus, what was wrong with Tweek? He’d seen Craig in much more scandalous states of undress, but something about the context and the closeness was leaving him tongue-tied. “A smart idea.” There, that was a decidedly non-creepy way to put it. “That reminds me!”

Tweek dived for his closet, digging out the bouquet he’d picked up from the florist yesterday and offering it to Craig.

Instead of taking them, Craig eyed the bouquet dubiously. “I don’t think your fake boyfriend is into flowers, dude.”

“They’re not for _you_ ,” Tweek said, shoving them harder. “Give them to my mom!”

“Oh.” Craig accepted them then, slightly embarrassed. “Shit, I didn’t even think of that. Should I have brought them presents or something?”

“They’ll be happy enough with these.” It wasn’t like either of them had the extra cash on hand to go all out, anyway. The flowers were just a finishing touch.

Downstairs, the sound of the door opening and closing carried up to Tweek’s room. This was it. The moment of truth.

“Well,” Tweek said, drawing in a shaky breath. “Let’s get this over with.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tweek’s parents were still lingering by the door when he and Craig reached the top of the staircase, brushing the freshly fallen snow from their coats and talking in hushed voices. All of Tweek’s instincts screamed for him to run; back to his room, out the window, and off to start a new life somewhere far, far away from ever facing the consequences of his actions. Instead, Richard locked eyes with him from a distance, the contact tethering Tweek in place and compelling him to move his feet forward. Heart hammering, Tweek descended the stairs robotically, Craig following at just a step behind and letting him take the lead.

Richard and Helen’s initial reaction to seeing Craig was one of surprise, something Tweek couldn’t entirely blame them for. They probably hadn’t expected Craig to look like much, both because he was someone who was supposedly interested in a disaster like Tweek and because Tweek had been more practical than complimentary when talking about him. He’d used descriptions for Craig like “kind of a nerd” and “pretty quiet” and “devoted to furthering the growth of family-owned businesses,” but never “handsome” or “has great hair” or “probably the inspiration behind the phrase _I want to climb that man like a tree._ ” His parents’ impossibly wide eyes opened even further once Craig came down from the final step, still towering over both of them to a more significant degree than the modest couple of inches Tweek had on his father. The strangest thrill of pride shot through Tweek for shattering their expectations, only for him to immediately feel like an idiot. It wasn’t like Craig was his _real_ boyfriend, so what was there to be smug about? Besides, it was more likely his parents were just thinking that Craig was completely out of Tweek’s league.

Helen’s shock melted first, giving way to a bright smile. “Why, this must be Craig!”

Tweek nodded, gesturing by way of introduction. “Craig, meet my mom and dad.”

“Hi,” Craig said, offering Helen the bouquet the way an action hero might have held out his handgun. It was the awkwardness of a man who’d never given a woman flowers before in his life.

Predictably, Helen swooned over the gift. “Isn’t that so thoughtful?”

“Tweek said carnations were your favorite,” Craig guessed. “He talks about you guys a lot.”

“Well, he’s certainly kept _you_ a secret.” Richard put one hand on Craig’s arm and reached for a handshake with the other, the gesture just short of being a hug. Like a trooper, Craig took it in stride. “He hasn’t even told us how you two met.”

“We had a class together,” Tweek said, his voice shooting up an octave when Craig placed a hand on his back and nearly made him jump out of his skin.

Richard shot Tweek a look of disapproval that clearly said he thought Tweek’s jitteriness was going to drive Craig away. Helen, meanwhile, continued beaming. “Are you a business major too?”

“Technically I’m undecided,” Craig lied again. The right lack of ambition was key to his character and no one would have believed a guy in engineering would give up his dreams to run a coffeeshop. “But Tweek makes business sound really fascinating.”

It was the right thing to say—Tweek could practically see the dollar signs flash in his parents’ eyes. As well as things were going, though, he didn’t want to push his luck just yet. Standing face-to-face in the living room made Tweek feel exposed, and there were too many ways for the story they’d concocted to fall apart under scrutiny. They needed to be somewhere where there was less pressure.

“I thought we were going to talk about this over dinner,” Tweek said. “Craig and I haven’t eaten yet since we’ve been on the road all day.”

Helen pursed her lips, addressing Craig in the apologetic tone of a dear old friend. “Tweek’s never been very good at being patient.”

“I hope you brought your appetite, Craig, because we wanted to treat you to some of the finest dining South Park has to offer,” Richard said.

Tweek met Craig’s eyes to give a subtle shake of his head—South Park had low standards, but they weren’t _that_ low. It wasn’t like the Tweaks were going to fork over the cash to go to the Rodriguezes' place. City Wok wasn’t even the best restaurant on its own street.

“That sounds great,” Craig said. Someone else might have tried to oversell the line with false enthusiasm, but Craig knew his weaknesses well enough to keep it to a small smile. Understated suited him well, and it didn’t hurt that he looked extra cute when he was happy. “Tweek made it sound like he’s a big fan of that place.”

Tweek snorted a laugh. Having a friend he could trade in-jokes with was already making this evening more bearable. “You know me.”

Still committed to making it seem like not having a car was an intentional lifestyle choice, Richard insisted on having the group walk to their destination. Tweek didn’t put up more than a token argument to drive, partially because City Wok was only a few minutes away but mostly because he feared that if he brought up his car too many times his parents would decide it was next on the family sacrifices chopping block. After a brief retreat to grab their coats—and for Tweek to take another moment to psyche himself up—he and Craig rejoined the family outside the house. Craig held his hand out as they started walking, and at first, Tweek only stared back in confusion. Craig gave him an urging look and flexed his fingers, then Tweek caught on. Right, hand holding. That was how a normal couple would act. He sidled closer to grab Craig’s hand, Craig lacing their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tweek abruptly jerked his head to look down at the sidewalk, the simple gesture making his face heat up as if he were a preteen on his first date. With Richard rattling off South Park Facts™ like the world’s worst tour guide, at least, no one seemed to notice Tweek was getting off to a poor start.

 _And that’s where the former governor got a nose job once_ was not the exciting piece of trivia Richard seemed to think it was, but Craig nodded along politely all the same. “I think my parents would like it here.”

Only Tweek realized it wasn’t a compliment.

There was never much to see in South Park, but at the end of the year it somehow seemed even more bleak. Christmas had only been a day ago, but its passing seemed to have taken all the wonder of the season with it. Even the snow was quickly losing its glimmer, turning into muddy sludge almost as soon as it hit the ground. Main Street itself was packed with shoppers hauling carloads of returns, their holiday goodwill drained and replaced with an irritable, grudging desire to get through the next few days with their families before the New Year would give them another excuse to drink away their problems.

When the group finally reached the restaurant, Tweek breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see the racist dickbag who owned the place wasn’t working today. The lady behind the counter was pushing seventy and mostly deaf, but she was still a major upgrade over Craig being exposed to another element of the town’s ugliness.

They made it through ordering their food without major incident right up until Craig committed the cardinal sin of accepting the cashier’s offer of purchasing a soda. Tweek could see his parents reaching into their coat pockets for their matching His ‘n Hers coffee thermoses, but before this could become IHOP all over again, he slid between them and Craig, his snow-soaked tennis shoes squeaking loudly against the tile.

“Dad, wait!” Tweek held up his hands with all the urgency of a man defusing a bomb. “Craig only gets one chance to try our coffee for the first time! It shouldn’t be some you’ve had sitting around!”

Richard tilted his head, considering, then nodded with approval. “Good thinking, son. Tweak Coffee is meant to be enjoyed fresh and warm, like wrapping yourself up in your favorite blanket pulled straight out of the dryer.”

Tweek could feel Craig and the cashier’s eyes on him, but shook his head in the universal language of _don’t ask._ He ordered a drink for himself in the spirit of solidarity, accepting the plastic cup as his parents moved on to securing a table.

Tweek approached the soda fountain like it was an altar, holding the cup in a crushing grip in an effort to still his shaky hands. This was really it. First impressions were everything, and if they could pull off this dinner then the rest of the week would be downhill. “Jesus, let me get through this.”

“Breathe, Tweek,” Craig said, walking up from behind and placing a hand on Tweek’s shoulder. “It’s going fine.”

“ _For now_ ,” Tweek hissed. “This is gonna be the hardest part!”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Craig looked behind Tweek’s shoulder, prompting Tweek to slowly turn around. His parents were seated at a table in the corner, dreamy smiles plastered on their faces as they craned their heads to stare at Tweek and Craig like they were an exotic zoo exhibit. “It looks like they’re eating this up.”

Slowly, Tweek realized how the scene must have appeared to his parents: Craig leaned in close and touching him, Tweek relaxing on instinct. Out of context it probably _did_ seem romantic.

Craig flashed a grin before walking to the table himself, leaving Tweek to finish getting his drink with slightly bolstered spirits. Tweek’s newfound optimism didn’t last long, however. As soon as he got within earshot of his family, he heard his dad trying to speak to Craig in broken Spanish.

Craig looked visibly uncomfortable with the whole exchange. “I took Japanese in high school, Mr. Tweak.”

“Yes, but you’re…” Helen waved a hand as if Craig was supposed to finish that sentence himself.

Tweek plonked his drink onto the table and practically jumped into his seat, desperate to deescalate the situation. Craig, however, beat him to it, cutting Helen off with the weary grace of someone who dealt with these kinds of tactless questions all the time. “—Adopted.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Helen said. “You know, Richard and I sometimes regret that we didn’t adopt.”

Ah, and now they were back to the familiar territory of talking about what an utter failure of an offspring Tweek was. He supposed that was an improvement.

“That’s right,” Richard said. “It sure would have made things easier for us if we’d had a son who was more suited to the business.”

“Oh God, here we go,” Tweek muttered to himself.

Helen reached over to pat his hand. “Not that we’d trade Tweek for anything in the world, of course.”

“Of course,” Richard echoed. “For starters I don’t think that’s legal.”

His parents twittered like they’d told the funniest joke of all time, and Tweek suppressed the urge to throw up all over the food the server was placing in front of them. A text notification gave him a momentary distraction, and he pulled out his phone to find the message was from Craig: _is your fake boyfriend someone who would punch your dad?_

Tweek laughed before texting back, _absolutely not._

“You know better than to text during dinner, Tweek,” Helen said, as if Tweek were still ten years old. “What’s funny enough to take your attention away from company?”

 _Company_. Like he wasn’t the one who’d invited Craig here.

“Just… something one of my friends said.” Tweek slipped the phone back into his pocket and picked up his fork, eager to keep himself busy by picking at the meal even if he wasn’t hungry.

“You never tell us anything about your friends, son,” Richard said.

“I wonder why,” Craig muttered dryly, startling another laugh out of Tweek.

Luckily, Richard and Helen gave no indication of noticing the slight. Helen said, “We want to hear all about you and Craig.”

“I told you,” Tweek said, moving to salt his food. “We met in class. It’s a boring story.”

Craig eyed the saltshaker. “Can you hand me that when you’re done, sweetheart?”

Tweek dropped the whole thing right into his lo mein, choking on air. He had to be hallucinating. There was no way he’d heard stoic, perpetually grumpy Craig Tucker slipping sappy pet names into conversation without missing a beat. 

“Tweek?” Craig’s brow furrowed in concern as he put a hand on Tweek’s head like he was checking him for a fever. At the same time, Helen rescued the poor saltshaker and wiped it off with a napkin while sighing about Tweek’s eternal clumsiness. Tweek managed a weak nod, snapping his jaw closed and still wondering if he was having a stroke.

Tweek was supposed to be the actor here, but it was Craig who didn’t hesitate to pick up the slack. “I don’t know if he told you, but Tweek’s been pretty nervous about us meeting. It’s really important to him for all of us to get along.”

“If there’s one thing Tweek’s good at, it’s working himself up over nothing,” Richard said. “We’re just relieved to hear he’s found someone.”

Helen nodded. “At first having a gay son came in handy for the business, but after a while we started to worry. It would have been hard enough for poor Tweek to find a woman who’d be interested in him, but a man? We were afraid it might be impossible.”

“That’s one of the reasons we agreed to send him to college,” Richard said.

Craig smiled politely, but anyone who knew him would have recognized the disturbed look in his eyes. Tweek knew he should chime in and say something, but experience had taught him that objecting to his parents’ critique only made them get more specific. The most painless path was suffering through the awkwardness in silence.

Craig hadn’t learned that lesson, though, because he said, “Well, maybe that’s how it was in a small town where there aren’t many guys around, but Tweek’s been really popular on campus. I know I had a lot of competition.”

Richard and Helen were stunned enough to stop eating, their unnatural smiles fracturing like glass. Helen blinked like she couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “Competition. For _Tweek_?”

Tweek was similarly shocked, stabbing a fork into his eggroll. That was _not_ the plan. Going rogue was something Tweek would have expected from Clyde, but not steady, reliable Craig. Urgently Tweek tried to nudge his foot under the table, but it was to no avail. For whatever reason, Craig was committed to changing the story.

“I must have asked him out like, five times before he finally said yes.” Craig smiled, forcing Tweek to look his way. “Right, honey?”

 _Honey_?! Jesus fucking Christ. With all eyes on him, Tweek had no choice but to roll with Craig’s version of events and fumbled for an excuse. “I was too focused on school to think much about dating.”

Tweek waited for his parents’ astonishment to turn into denial, for the whole house of cards he’d constructed to come tumbling down as a consequence of taking the deception too far. Instead, they spent the next several seconds staring at Tweek as if they’d never seen him before, like they were mentally trying to bridge the gap between the pathetic son they’d raised and the life he’d built in Colorado Springs where he apparently had an army of attractive men at his beck and call. When no counterargument came, Tweek felt emboldened to get some revenge. Like hell he was going to let _Craig_ be the only one to change the story. “Besides, Craig and I didn’t really get along at first. I thought he was an asshole.”

To his credit, Craig responded with a laugh. “And he wasn’t shy about telling me either. That was one of the things about Tweek that impressed me right away.”

That was probably true; anyone close to Craig understood that he was all bark and no bite, but having been roughly the size of Godzilla since middle school went a long way towards intimidating strangers. Counterintuitive as it might seem, not putting up with Craig’s shit was a shortcut to getting on his good side. At least if you were Tweek, anyway.

“And here I thought you were just distracted by my hair,” Tweek said.

“Everything about you is distracting, babe.”

“Jesus.” Tweek looked away to hide his blush. He was _not_ going to let Craig win this by being shameless. “How do you say shit like that with a straight face?”

“I guess you bring it out in me.” Craig’s dry, sarcastic tone was the antithesis of flirting, but it was clear Tweek’s parents didn’t read it that way. When Tweek chanced another glance at them they were captivated, hanging on to every word with an interest they’d never shown to Tweek before in his life. Craig had been right. Against all odds, they _were_ eating this up.

“This is all so hard for us to picture,” Helen said finally. “We had no idea Tweek had such an… active college life.”

“Did you ask him?” Craig said, prompting Tweek to kick his ankles. That was a step too far. Craig backtracked. “I mean—Tweek gets kinda shy about this stuff. He never wants to give himself credit for anything. Did he even tell you he aced his finals?”

“He never mentioned it,” Richard said, as if he’d ever given Tweek a chance to.

“You should be proud of your accomplishments, pumpkin.” Helen took it a step further, her forehead crinkling with worry like she had no idea why Tweek might have issues with his self-esteem.

Tweek pushed his noodles around with his fork, idly wondering if such a concentrated lack of self-awareness in one place would make the universe implode. Only his parents could make their refusal to ever listen to him sound like a criticism.

“Our friend Token drags him into a lot of volunteer work too,” Craig went on. “The old people at the retirement home love him.”

“They’re lonely,” Tweek said. “They love anyone who gives them attention.”

“And you’re one of the only people who does, Tweek.” Craig wasn’t having the rebuttal. “Are you seriously gonna try and argue that you aren’t a good person?”

“I think they get it, Craig. I didn’t bring you here so you could talk about _me_ all day.”

It couldn’t have been what Richard and Helen were expecting, not when they were so desperately curious about Craig. Still, the looks on their faces remained fascinated, like Craig was forcing them to evaluate their son in a whole new light. Tweek squirmed in his seat, unsure of what to do with positive attention.

“I just want everyone to know how amazing you are, honey.” Christ, he really didn’t stop with the pet names, did he?

“Well, Craig, you certainly seem taken with our son,” Richard said.

Craig looked Tweek up and down in a way that was meant to get under his skin, but in any other situation Tweek could have almost mistaken it for genuine interest. “What’s not to like?”

“Ignore him, Dad.” For Tweek, there was something comfortable about settling back into his and Craig’s familiar patterns of verbal give and take. He allowed himself to relax the slightest bit. “The only _real_ reason he likes me is because I get along with his guinea pig.”

“Nah,” Craig said. “Getting along with Stripe makes you husband material.”

Tweek laughed. “You can’t say that like you’re kidding when it’s how you really are, Craig. I bet you made your ex-boyfriends pass a Stripe trivia test to even get a second date.”

Richard and Helen didn’t get the joke, but their lack of understanding didn’t appear to matter. Their eyes were shining like they were watching a romance for the ages play out in front of them, and not just Tweek and Craig slipping into a modified version of their usual banter. After months of spending time together, reading one another’s sense of humor felt easy, almost natural. For the first time since he’d gotten that fateful call from his father, Tweek began to think that just maybe things might work out after all.

* * *

All told, the trip to City Wok had probably been one of the least traumatizing family dinners Tweek had ever been a part of. The effortless chemistry he and Craig shared as friends passed for attraction more convincingly than he would have dreamed, and Craig had even topped things off by going all Super Boyfriend and offering to pay for the meal. Tweek had added the gesture to his mental tally of how much he owed Craig, too stunned by his parents’ delight to offer much of an objection. At this point, Richard and Helen seemed ready to make Craig an honorary Tweak regardless of his relationship with their son.

Tweek and Craig were waiting just outside the restaurant, taking advantage of having a brief moment alone together while Richard and Helen hit the restroom. As wonderfully as things had gone, Tweek couldn’t resist giving Craig a hard time for deviating from the script. “So. Are you gonna tell me why you decided not to follow my plan?”

“To be fair,” Craig replied, “you did say I could do it my way.”

“I didn’t think doing it ‘your way’ meant ignoring my whole strategy!”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Craig shrugged his shoulders, obviously able to tell that Tweek wasn’t actually mad. “What does Jimmy call it—reading your audience? I would have changed tactics if they weren’t buying it.”

“Since when do you take Jimmy’s advice? Improvising isn’t like you.” Maybe that was what Tweek couldn’t figure out. Craig wasn’t exactly a master of social graces or trying new things, so listening to him ad lib like that had taken Tweek completely by surprise.

“I figured it’d be easier,” Craig said. “You wanted me to act like I can barely stand you, but it makes more sense to base our fake relationship on the reasons we’re friends.”

“And we’re a lot less likely to make mistakes that way,” Tweek admitted. In all of his panicked overthinking, Tweek had overlooked the simplest method. Craig really was the right man for the job. “You know, I’m glad I asked you to come with me instead of Clyde.”

Craig made a show of looking offended. “Was that ever in doubt?”

Tweek smirked. “I mean, it was kind of close…”

Craig stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they flicked to City Wok’s windows. Through the glass, they could see Tweek’s parents making their way towards the door. “Hey, Tweek. Is your fake boyfriend into PDA?”

Tweek hesitated. He didn’t think Craig was going to up and kiss him right here on Main Street in his conservative little town, but then again, Craig was full of surprises today. As his parents stepped closer Tweek lifted his head, defiant and ready to call Craig’s bluff. “Sure. Why not?”

Before Tweek could realize what was happening, Craig reached an arm out to wrap around Tweek’s shoulders, drawing him close. The contact was somehow more intimate than a kiss would have been, and Tweek’s whole body went stiff at being pressed up against Craig’s side.

“You know,” Craig said, “this will be a lot more convincing if you don’t look like you’re getting kidnapped.”

“You caught me off guard!”

“I literally asked you if it was okay.”

“You didn’t say what you were gonna do!” Despite his protests Tweek tried to relax, slipping his own arm around Craig’s waist and moving them together even closer. There. Did that look natural? If Craig could feel him shaking, Tweek hoped he’d attribute it to the cold.

Any worry they’d pushed their luck too far was dashed when the Tweaks joined them on the sidewalk, fawning over how cute they looked together. Tweek caught a glimpse of the two of them reflected back from the window and then he kind of understood: they _did_ look nice together, like a young couple too in love to keep their hands off of each other. Too bad that love was about as real as the box of noodles painted under City Wok’s logo.

Craig kept ahold of him as the group made the walk back home, a warm, solid presence that made Tweek’s stomach flip uncomfortably. Jesus, he’d been worried about Craig’s acting, but here Tweek was about to have a heart attack over being touched. Some of the elation he’d felt after dinner began to fade. Sure, Tweek had successfully tricked his parents, but he’d also put himself in the position of torturing himself this way for an entire week. He hadn’t considered that fake intimacy would have so much of an effect on him, but then again, it made a certain kind of sense. Tweek hadn’t had a real boyfriend since high school. Having Craig’s attention directed his way—as phony as it was—just reminded Tweek of how much he’d missed this kind of closeness.

* * *

As hard as he tried to hide it, some of Tweek’s burgeoning discomfort must have shown on his face. They’d only been back in the house for about ten minutes when Tweek caught his mother watching him with worried eyes. “Is something wrong, sweetie?”

“No!” Tweek all but shouted, latching onto Craig’s arm like a hyperactive koala. “Of course not! Why would anything be wrong?”

“I know what the problem is.” Richard stood up from where he’d been digging through the entertainment center in search of a Tweek Bros. DVD he was all too eager to show Craig. (Some families had home movies, but the Tweaks had forty years of advertisement compilations.)

Craig, still as furniture, didn’t flinch when Tweek tightened his grip and yelped, “You do?!”

Richard’s expression carried the weight of fatherly disapproval as he looked the boys over, causing Tweek’s heart to feel like it was going to burst right out of his chest. “Of course, son. You’re upset that we didn’t make time to show Craig the coffeehouse today.”

In the span of a second, Tweek’s rigid terror deflated into boneless disbelief. Even if he had been the perfect little coffee soldier his dad had always wanted him to be, he couldn’t imagine a universe where anyone would be _that_ devoted. Still, Tweek grabbed on to the excuse for all he was worth. “You’re right. I know we’ve got plenty of time, it’s just—Craig has been looking forward to seeing it for so long! Right, Craig?”

“I really can’t wait,” Craig said flatly, his poor acting more in line with what Tweek had expected from him from the start.

Helen didn’t notice the difference, moving closer to give Tweek’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t you boys worry. We’ll have all day tomorrow to work on getting Craig acquainted with business.”

“In that case, we should get some rest,” Tweek said, impatient to get Craig away from his family. It was best to introduce outsiders to their particular brand of crazy in small, measured increments rather than all at once. Given how early the household always rose to get the shop ready, turning in before nightfall wasn’t out of the ordinary enough to raise suspicions. “It’s been a long day.”

“But I’m sure that DVD is around here somewhere,” Richard tried to protest.

“Another time, Dad!” Tweek headed for the stairs before his parents could argue any further, tugging Craig along with him.

Craig held Tweek’s hand all the way until they made it to his room, something that made Tweek’s heart flutter stupidly. He still couldn’t believe Craig was such an affectionate guy, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising. Behind all that bravado Craig _was_ pretty sappy—he’d sit around and watch baby animal videos for hours when he thought no one was looking. In some ways it kind of figured he’d be a romantic too. Tweek could have tried examining why he’d been so determined to make himself believe otherwise, but since that was more self-reflection than he could handle in one night, he pushed the thought aside.

The second Tweek closed his bedroom door behind them, the spell was broken and Craig jerked his hand away like Tweek had burned him. The change in demeanor was so sudden Tweek didn’t know what to make of it. “Sorry,” he tried. “Was I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Craig said, setting Stripe free to ping-pong between the walls of Tweek’s room. “But there’s no reason to keep up the act when no one’s watching.”

It was like a light switch had been flipped. _This_ was the Craig Tweek was accustomed to seeing, stone-faced and surly for no apparent reason. It made Tweek feel like even more of a selfish jerk. He’d let his emotions run wild when Craig had just been doing what Tweek had asked of him and playing a role.

Tweek leaned back against his door, shutting his eyes and, if just for a moment, trying to focus on the positive. “I can’t believe we pulled that off. They totally believed us.”

“Can I tell you something without making you freak out?”

Tweek cracked an eye open. “Starting off like that isn’t doing you any favors, Craig.”

Sitting on the edge of Tweek’s bed, Craig’s grin was as cocky as it was unapologetic. “If it helps, it’s something I probably should have told you earlier.”

“Even better.” Huffing out a sigh, Tweek moved to sit next to him, body angled expectantly.

“Parents usually hate me,” Craig confessed, insufferably proud of himself.

Tweek blinked. “Huh?”

“Not even just my ex-boyfriends’ parents. My friends’ parents usually think I’m a bad influence too.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Tweek said. Craig liked thinking of himself as some sort of bad boy, but he was the kind of guy who always turned his homework in on time and had probably never broken a rule more serious than defying a _keep off the grass_ sign.

“You can ask Clyde if you don’t believe me. When his mom was alive she was always convinced I was gonna like, get him to join a gang or something.”

Tweek narrowed his eyes, still skeptical. As far as he knew, Craig’s most scandalous group activity was his anime club. “Well,” Tweek said, “as long as you pretend you can put up with me, my parents aren’t gonna care if you’re a criminal. Join as many gangs as you want.”

“It’s weird having a family actually like me.” Craig’s good mood finally faltered. “I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

Tweek knew what Craig was thinking without either of them needing to say it. It was, after all, the elephant in the room: Tweek’s parents already adored Craig but didn’t seem to extend that same kind of fondness to their actual son. Unwilling to put a damper on an otherwise good day by starting to unpack all that, Tweek got to his feet. “Hold Stripe for a minute so I can dig my old sleeping bag out of the closet.”

“What for?”

“To sleep on?” Obviously! “You can have the bed. I’d offer you the guest room, but it’s all packed up.”

“Tweek.” Craig sounded just short of exasperated. “We share a dorm room the size of a closet. It’s not like I’m gonna turn super-duper ultra gay if we share a bed too.”

Tweek wrung his hands. “I just don’t want to make things even weirder.”

“Wasn’t that the whole point of picking me?” Craig asked. “You said none of this would be awkward because we’re friends.”

It was just like Craig to use Tweek’s own words against him. What was he supposed to do, argue with his past self? He couldn’t, even if he already knew this was a terrible idea.

* * *

Unfortunately, there was no satisfaction in saying _I told you so_ to yourself. Hours later, staring up from his bed and predictably unable to sleep, Tweek lamented that he hadn’t fought against this arrangement harder. It was one thing to coexist in a tiny dorm and another to have Craig lying little more than an inch away, wearing that dumb white t-shirt that showed off his stupidly attractive arms and getting the scent of his fancy shampoo all over Tweek’s pillow.

Barely suppressing the urge to groan, Tweek kept his eyes trained on his ceiling fan, familiar words playing on repeat in his head: _Off limits, off limits, off limits._

It was going to be a very long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll delete this later since I don't like having notes in the middle of things, but sorry for the break in regular updates! This is one of those chapters that's been 90% done since November but I just haven't been in enough of a writing mood lately to finish it.


	7. Chapter 7

If Tweek had been living in one of those cheesy holiday romcoms he’d tried to watch the other day, he and Craig would have probably woken up in a tangle of limbs like some powerful, subconscious force had pulled them together in the night and forced Tweek to confront his mixed emotions.

Reality, fortunately or not, didn’t offer any such shortcuts. It was still dark out when Tweek found himself blinking awake, having forgotten that he was sharing the bed with another person right up until his arm collided with Craig when he went to stretch. Tweek stifled a yelp and held his breath, exhaling in relief when Craig failed to stir.

Contrary to the images in those movies, Craig was curled up on his side with his back to Tweek, looking like he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Craig’s posture was stiff, his whole body radiating tension even in unconsciousness. Tweek had been Craig’s roommate long enough to know entirely too much about his sleeping habits, and therefore understood how unnatural the position was. Craig was one of those guys who generally slept like a baby, his guard dropping as he drifted off in a way that made his face look years younger. That Craig seemed so miserable now was a stark reminder of how _un_ romantic this whole thing really was—while Tweek wrestled with his feelings, poor Craig was getting unwittingly dragged along for the ride.

Before Tweek could wonder what had roused _him_ from bed so early, a sudden pounding on his bedroom door gave him the answer. He nearly screamed, a confused, messy-haired Craig shooting up beside him.

“Tweek!” His father’s voice. Of course. Tweek’s panic melted into aggravation.

Muttering an apology to Craig, Tweek climbed out of bed and pulled the door open enough to glare outside. Between squinting at the bright light in the hall and his lack of coherency making his face feel like play-doh, he probably didn’t pull off angry very well.

“See, honey?” Richard said like nothing was amiss. “I told you he’d still be sleeping in.”

“I’m surprised at you, Tweek.” Helen was standing just behind her husband, the two of them already dressed for work. Judging by their energized smiles, they were probably on their fifth cup of coffee for the day. “Aren’t you excited to show Craig the shop?”

“Not _now_ ,” Tweek hissed back. The volume of their voices was giving him a headache. “He’s not used to getting up this early.”

Richard and Helen exchanged a look, and Tweek could see the gears turning in their heads, debating how much they wanted to teach Craig every aspect of the business versus the fear of putting him off by overwhelming him on his first day. Luckily for Tweek, the sensible approach eventually won out.

“All right, son,” Richard said. “Just don’t wait too long. I know you boys want to spend time together, but there’s a lot we need to teach Craig.”

Tweek hastily agreed—mostly just to get them out of his room already—then locked the door and sank back onto the bed rubbing his tired eyes. Craig, still sitting up behind him, slumped forward like a marionette with its strings cut, resting his forehead against Tweek’s shoulder.

“Tweek.” Craig’s muffled mumbles would have made a good zombie impression. “It’s 4 AM.”

“I know.”

“It’s still dark outside.”

“Yep.”

Craig sighed miserably before he crashed back down against the pillows. “You seriously do this every day?”

“That’s the coffee business.” The footsteps and muffled voices of his parents echoed faintly from downstairs. “Try to get some more sleep. They’ll leave soon.”

Craig grumbled in assent, his eyes already closing. He seemed more relaxed this time around, but that might have had something to do with the fact he almost immediately pulled a pillow over his head. Tweek watched Craig for a few minutes just to make sure he was still breathing, then turned his attention to Stripe, who had escaped his new cage as easily as his old one and was currently chasing dust bunnies around Tweek’s floor. Craig had told him once that guinea pigs only slept about four hours a day—with the expected snide remark about that being more sleep than Tweek ever got. Tweek wondered if that kind of constant restlessness sucked for animals as much as it did for humans.

Afraid his shifting around would disturb Craig, Tweek figured he should commit to being awake and do something to keep himself occupied. Carefully, he reached over to grab his laptop from the nightstand, booting it up and going back into his design program. He hadn’t spared much time for the project since he’d been back in South Park, but on mornings like this it was just what he needed. Building things, virtual or not, brought out a different kind of focus in Tweek—the kind that helped him still his limbs and quiet his mind in a way nothing else had ever quite managed. Even meditation had always felt a bit too much like grasping at clouds.

Tweek must have lost track of time after the first couple hours of working, because morning sunlight was flooding through the blinds when Craig suddenly poked his head out from under his pillow cocoon and asked, “Is that Red Racer?”

“You’re not supposed to see it!” Instinctively, Tweek pulled the laptop to his chest with the startled terror of someone who’d been caught looking at porn in school. When Craig met him with a withering stare, he relented and put it back down. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”

Craig propped himself up on his elbows, squinting at the screen. “You designed that? I didn’t know you did computer stuff.”

“I don’t,” Tweek said. “This was a present from Token and Nichole.”

“That looks really good, Tweek.”

The praise warmed Tweek down to his toes. Craig didn’t give out compliments often or easily, so you knew he really meant it when he said something nice. Still, Tweek felt bashful. “You think so? I barely know what I’m doing. I’ve only figured out like, half the features.”

Craig rolled to a sitting position, smoothing a hand through his hair and giving a dry laugh. “Wow, you’re only making 3D models at a semi-professional level after a week? What an underachiever.”

“Okay, okay.” Tweek laughed, grateful that Craig didn’t seem poised to ask why Tweek was practicing with something from one of his shows. Now that Tweek thought about it, he didn’t really have an answer.

The distinctive sound of Craig’s text notifications rang out from across the room and with a labored groan, Craig hauled himself out of bed to retrieve his phone from where he’d left it on Tweek’s dresser. All at once Craig’s good mood appeared to fade, his eyebrows sloping down in aggravation while he furiously typed out a response to someone.

“What’s wrong?” Tweek asked.

“Fucking Token,” Craig mumbled. When he looked up his eyes lingered on Tweek just long enough to make one thing clear: whatever Token was texting about must have involved Tweek too.

“Craig.” More seriously this time. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Craig said, the tried-and-true method of making sure that Tweek would worry even more. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tweek sank back against the headboard, bedsprings creaking with his movement. “You know saying that shit doesn’t work on me, man.”

Craig put his phone back down, apparently done with the argument even though text notifications continued to roll in. “What happened to one crisis at a time?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what the crises are!”

“It’s a school thing,” Craig relented finally, sitting back on the edge of the bed. “And you also said you didn’t want to talk about school until you were sure you’d be able to go back.”

What a below the belt tactic. Sometimes it felt like Craig secretly took notes of their conversations just to be able to back Tweek into verbal corners later. Craig must have realized he was being unfair, because he was quick to add, “I’ll tell you all about it later, okay? I promise.”

“I don’t see why you can’t tell me now.” That was as close to acquiescence as Tweek was going to get.

“Because it’s not important now,” Craig said, still clinging to the veneer of being the reasonable one. “Besides, aren’t we already late for meeting up with your parents?”

* * *

Tweek would have liked to have stayed annoyed with Craig, but that was hard to do when he was making such an earnest attempt at being helpful. Richard had insisted on giving Craig a behind the scenes tour of Tweek Bros. from the moment they’d walked through the door—all one, glorious room of it—and Craig was following every step with the careful attentiveness of someone who really did stand to inherit the place.

Craig had even agreed to wear one of the family’s custom Tweek Bros. aprons, Richard’s eyes shining with pride when he’d gifted it like he was passing along a sacred heirloom. The problem, though, was that said aprons had all been ordered in Tweak-size. Even Tweek’s had run a little short in the aftermath of his final teenage growth spurt, but for Craig, the contrast was downright laughable. The apron fell several inches shy of reaching to his knees the way it was supposed to, the pockets riding comically high.

Tweek had been right about one thing, at least—now that his parents had bestowed Craig the official Tweak seal of approval, they were less interested in interrogating him and more interested in giving him a crash course in Barista 101. As much as Tweek wanted to supervise, the shop was busy enough that he and Helen kept getting pulled away to man the registers. Between customers, Tweek could tell that poor Craig was really struggling to keep up with his father’s explanations. Richard wasn’t a particularly fast talker, but his penchant for non sequiturs and changing topics midsentence were clearly throwing Craig for a loop.

“I remember my first day working here,” Richard said dreamily. Craig, bless his heart, waited expectantly for the story to go somewhere, but Richard had already moved on to talking about Grandma Tweak’s locally famous cruller recipe. Craig scrambled to follow him to the other side of the room, his confused eyes finding Tweek’s like a deer in headlights. Tweek flashed him a thumbs up and the most reassuring smile he could muster.

“That poor boy doesn’t know the first thing about the coffee business,” Helen said, wiping her hands off on a towel as she moved to stand next to Tweek.

 _That’s not true_ , Tweek wanted to say, but as Craig incorrectly snapped the portafilter into the espresso machine, causing the shot to pour out around the cup rather than actually in it, Tweek realized that argument wouldn’t fly. “Well… maybe not, but he really wants to learn.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Helen frowned, still staring straight ahead at Richard and Craig. “If you ask me, I think he could take or leave this place.”

Tweek went still, his breaths coming faster. _Shit, shit shit._ Had he been wrong? Maybe his parents hadn’t been as blind as he’d thought. Maybe they’d seen through the ruse right away and had only played along to see how far Tweek would take it, giving him just enough rope to hang himself. “I…” He scrambled for an excuse, but Tweek had never been good at thinking under pressure.

When Helen turned to him, though, her smile was warm. “He’s only here for _you_.”

Tweek felt his eyes twitch, mind still blank. “For me?”

“He’s obviously crazy about you,” Helen said, voice filled with certainty. “You think a mother can’t tell?”

Speechless, Tweek followed her gaze back to Craig. Richard’s lessons on pulling a good espresso shot were horrible, giving only about 25% of the information needed before retreating back to useless anecdotes and an overly complicated discussion of brew ratios. Craig was trying his best in spite of the overwhelming odds, though, and did an admirable job of pretending not to gag when Richard passed him the finished drink for sampling. The display made Tweek’s heart swell. It was one thing for Craig to agree to play fake boyfriend and another for him to go all in for something that hadn’t even been part of the deal. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t really care about Tweek. That was a kind of love, even if it wasn’t the sort his mother was talking about.

“Not everyone sees it, but Craig’s really sweet,” Tweek said, opting to take a cue from Craig’s playbook and use real things from their friendship as a basis for his gushing. He didn’t need to fake the fondness in his voice or the softness in his eyes. “I asked him to come down here on really short notice, but he didn’t complain at all.”

“We’re happy for you, sweetheart. You know, when you told us that you had a boyfriend who was so interested in working here, your father and I really didn’t know what to think. You made him sound like…” Helen pursed her lips, thinking. “Like a gold digger with no ambition.”

Tweek nearly choked on a laugh. “Craig’s nothing like that! I guess I just got too caught up in worrying about whether or not you guys would like him.”

“He seems like a fine young man. We were concerned about you being so far away, but you’ve done well for yourself.”

Watching Helen watch Craig, Tweek wondered if she saw something of herself in him. After all, as hard as it was to picture after growing up under the ever-present idea of his parents as an inseparable duo, Helen had married into the business just as much as she had the Tweak family. “Hey, Mom…” he said, a little hesitantly. Helen’s past wasn’t a forbidden topic, but it felt that way from how rarely she brought it up. “Was this ever how it was for you and Dad?”

“What do you mean, hon?”

“Like… Was he the reason why you wanted to work here?” Enough to make it her whole life?

“Your father and I started dating when we were a lot younger than you and Craig. This place had been open for years by then. Neither of us ever had to worry about what we were going to do. To be honest, I don’t think we ever even considered anything else.”

“But—”

“Anyway, Tweek, it was a long time ago.” Helen spoke airily, but Tweek recognized the signal to drop the subject. His mother was one of those people who could shut a conversation down without ever having to say a stern word.

With his attempt at a heart-to-heart stymied, Tweek moved back to being pragmatic. “You know… Craig’s great. And so are all the other friends I’ve made at school. I miss you and Dad a lot, but college has been such a good experience for me.” When Helen didn’t immediately respond, he pressed on. “Have you decided about letting me go back?”

“We’re talking it over.” Helen did turn dismissive then, a sharp contrast to how she’d fawned over Craig. She made it sound as if dangling Tweek’s hopes and dreams in front of him like a carrot on a stick was only a minor concern.

Before Tweek could get any further, someone rang the bell at the counter, alerting them to a customer. Peeking out the door, he spotted David and Kevin Stoley lurking near the register. Tweek walked back out towards them, not bothering with the pretense of his customer service face. “What—” _are you guys doing here?_ he almost asked, but then he spotted Stan Marsh standing just outside the building, his eyes trained on the ground like he was trying to avoid looking directly into the shop. “Wait, what’s Stan doing out there?”

“Who knows? He didn’t wanna come in with us.” David shrugged. “But you know why _we’re_ here.”

The door to the backroom had no windows, but David and Kevin looked past Tweek like they thought they were going to catch a glimpse of Craig at any moment.

“There’s no way we were gonna miss a chance to meet your pretend boyfriend,” Kevin said.

“You _told people_?” Tweek hissed, leaning over the counter to glare at David. If he’d been standing any closer Tweek might have strangled him.

“Not _people_ ,” David said. “Just… you know. Stan and Kenny.”

Kevin nodded. “I think they forgot I was even there.”

“Did you hear something, Tweek?” David angled himself just enough to block Kevin from view.

Still mad but unable to resist an old joke, Tweek shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Wow,” Kevin said. “It’s just like high school all over again.”

“Okay.” Tweek folded his hands on the counter, eyes narrowed threateningly. “You’ve both done your job of officially giving me a hard time. You can get the fuck out of here now.”

Craig stepped out of the backroom, eyeing the situation awkwardly. “Uh, your mom said I should help you with the customers.”

“These assholes aren’t customers,” Tweek said. “And they were just leaving _. Right_?”

“Right,” Kevin replied, unwilling to risk Tweek’s wrath. He held his fingers up in what was probably some obscure sci-fi gesture of peace. “We’ll see you later.”

The two of them turned to make their way to the exit, but not before David looked over his shoulder to eye Craig with a snicker. “You have a _type_ , Tweek.”

Tweek ground his teeth together as their laughter echoed out the door. No one in this town could keep their goddamn mouth shut.

“Ex-boyfriend?” Craig guessed, raising an eyebrow.

“Ha! Not even close.”

When Craig stared back, unconvinced, Tweek relented. “Okay. I told him he was cute _once_ in 12th grade and he never let me forget it.”

Craig crossed his arms, his mild expression applying more pressure even in silence.

“And I might have had a stupid crush on him for like five minutes!” God, why couldn’t Tweek get answers out of Craig as easily as the other way around?

“He wasn’t interested?”

“Totally straight.” Maybe _that_ was Tweek’s type. Not straight, necessarily, but unobtainable. It was how he always ended up stuck in another round of no one’s favorite game show: _Is There Actually Something Between Us or Am I Once Again Making the Humiliating Mistake of Projecting on Anyone Who Shows Me Kindness?_ Tweek sighed, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counter for the sake of looking busy between customers. “So you can guess how well that went.”

“Oh.” Craig sounded a little guilty now for bringing it up. “He didn’t seem weird about it.”

“It’s not like we stopped being friends,” Tweek said. “It just… wasn’t the same, you know?”

“Did you know he was straight before you told him?”

“Of course I did.”

The answer somehow seemed to take Craig by surprise. “Then why’d you do it?”

“I had to! What kind of weirdo doesn’t tell someone they like them?”

When Craig didn’t respond, Tweek turned back around to find Craig looking like he’d been slapped in the face. The sudden attention seemed to bring him back to reality. “Seriously, Tweek? It’s not that easy for everyone.”

“I—” Tweek opened his mouth to argue, but his certainty quickly deflated. “You’re right.” It wasn’t normal to blurt things out the way Tweek did. His big mouth was always the problem, wasn’t it? Thoughts ricocheted through Tweek’s head with the force of a shaken soda can, the pressure building and building until he felt he had to get them out or burst. Tweek couldn’t have feelings for someone and _not_ tell them, no matter how disastrous the consequences. “Most people know better than to say the kind of stupid shit I do. It’s how I always end up in situations like this.”

With parents who treated him like an invalid and a roommate forced to stand in place of a real relationship.

“That’s not what I meant,” Craig said, picking up on Tweek’s inner pity party. “Just because being honest like that doesn’t work for everybody doesn’t mean it isn’t right for _you_ , Tweek. You always say what’s on your mind like you don’t give a fuck about anything.”

Tweek managed a weak smile for the effort, but shook his head. “Try the other way around, Craig. I give way too many fucks.”

“Okay, but doesn’t that just make it _more_ badass?”

Craig sounded too sincere to be bullshitting him, and now that Tweek thought about it, he could understand why someone like him might have misguided admiration for Tweek’s inability to shut up. Behind Craig’s many proclamations of not giving a shit about other people's opinions was a guy who buried his pink shirts in the back of his closet and kept the fact that he went to anime club every Tuesday a secret known only to those in his most trusted inner circle—AKA Stripe and Tweek. Craig had mastered the art of wearing his anger on his sleeve, but tended to guard his more vulnerable emotions with much greater care. As much as Tweek sometimes wished he could do the same instead of constantly airing out his every worry, he knew Craig’s method wasn’t entirely healthy either. There was a compromise in there somewhere, like if you blended their personalities together you might actually come up with a fully functional human being.

Either way, this debate wasn’t going anywhere productive. Tweek opted for a playful approach, slinging the rag over his shoulder with practiced ease and fixing Craig with a sly smile. “Badass, huh? Does that mean you’re gonna start talking about your feelings all the time?”

“Fuck no.” Craig immediately pulled a face. “I’m badass in other ways.”

“Sure you are.”

“Good news, Craig!” Richard nudged the door to the backroom open with his foot just enough to poke his upper body out, his arms loaded down with a stack of thick, dust covered binders. “I found those manuals I was telling you about!”

“Ignore him,” Tweek said the second Richard disappeared from view. “It’s more than enough that you let him show you around, you don’t actually have to learn anything about making coffee.”

“It’s okay.”

“Craig—"

“I can do this.” Craig looked straight ahead, his fists curled with the determination of a man who had a dragon to slay.

“I’ll be here if you change your mind.” Tweek laughed softly, patting Craig on the arm. There was only so much good that trying to talk Craig out of something would do once his pride took over. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

* * *

Although they were obviously trying to maintain an upbeat demeanor, the exhaustion on Richard and Helen’s faces appeared early and only grew more severe as the day dragged on. Despite his many frustrations with his parents, Tweek couldn’t help feeling guilty—that he’d stayed in bed and left them to run things until almost 11, that they’d spent so many long days working without his help altogether. Eventually it got to be too much, and a little before closing time Tweek finally insisted they go home. By then they were too tired to offer more than half-hearted protests, reminding Tweek of closing procedures (as if he hadn’t done this hundreds of times), before shuffling out the door.

“You should get out of here too,” Tweek said, turning to where Craig had taken to sitting on the counter in the absence of any middle-aged supervision, his long legs dangling over the floor. “If you take my car you can beat my parents home.”

“What?” Craig asked, never willing to make it easy. “I’m not ditching you.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Craig.” Tweek wasn’t as bad off as his parents had been, but the combination of barely getting any sleep and being on his feet for hours had him feeling worn down too. “I really appreciate how much you tried to help today, but I brought you here to be my boyfriend, not to do unpaid labor.”

“Heh. If I were straight I’d probably make a joke about how that’s the same thing.”

Tweek rolled his eyes. “Just go.”

“Staying a little longer isn’t gonna kill me. Besides, this place is tiny.” Craig gestured to the dining area with a wave of his hand. “How long could it possibly take to clean it?”

Half an hour later, still scrubbing his mop against the same stubborn spot in the corner, Tweek was sure Craig must have gotten his answer.

“How the fuck is this still sticky?” Craig asked, frustrated. “Do the customers get down on their hands and knees and _grind_ sugar into the floor?”

“That’s nothing,” Tweek said, holding out his hand for Craig to relinquish the mop in defeat. “We used to have _carpet_ out here.”

Craig gaped, suitably horrified. Tweek, meanwhile, dipped the mop into the bucket before tackling the stubborn stain with an understanding that only came from experience. When Craig looked surprised by that too, Tweek had to laugh. “Tell me you’re not gonna get all competitive about my mopping skills.”

“No,” Craig said. “I’m just wondering where all this enthusiasm is when it’s time to clean our dorm.”

“Hey!” Tweek punctuated the statement by stabbing the mop against the ground. “Just because I don’t wash the dishes five times a day _like someone_ doesn’t mean I don’t help out!”

“I’ve seen how many coffee cups you have stacked up in your bedroom, Tweek. I bet some of them have been there since you were in high school.”

“Wouldn’t that be my parents’ fault?” Which, Tweek secretly acknowledged, wasn’t a denial. He was _pretty_ sure he’d cleaned up his room before moving out, but coffee cups were such a ubiquitous sight around the Tweak household that they often blended into the background.

“Only for teaching you bad habits.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Tweek said, leaning against the mop and nodding towards the pastry display. “Do you want any of that food before I pack it up?” The unsellable items would again be going to Karen. “My mom said they’re reheating Christmas leftovers for dinner tonight.” Tweek wrinkled his nose to show what he thought of _that_ plan.

“So where can we go that you’ll actually eat?”

“Huh?” Tweek asked. “I eat.”

“Not since I’ve been here. I sat next to you in the restaurant yesterday, remember?”

Okay, maybe Tweek _had_ been more interested in prodding at his dinner than eating it on that particular day, but it wasn’t as if skipping meals was a regular occurrence. It was just hard to muster up an appetite when his parents were at their most overbearing.

“I had breakfast this morning,” Tweek protested, a little weaker.

“Half a piece of toast?”

“It was more than that!”

“Not by much.”

“Again,” Tweek said, “you’re supposed to be acting like my fake boyfriend, not an extra mom.”

Craig, probably used to the label, didn’t flinch. “I think that still counts under ‘unpaid labor.’”

Smiling only ever encouraged Craig, but Tweek couldn’t help himself. “How do you still have the energy to be this annoying?”

“Probably from drinking a fuckton of coffee.”

“Oh. Right.” Yeah, that made sense.

“Which I still think tastes like shit, by the way.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

“I mean, I don’t like coffee in general, but what you guys serve here is _really_ —”

“ _Okay_.” Tweek got the point already, Christ.

“So?” Craig tapped his foot with caffeinated impatience.

“Fine,” Tweek agreed, jamming the mop back into the bucket with a huff. His bank account was so close to being in the red that it was only a few days before he’d get slapped with some bullshit fees for daring to be poor anyway. He’d might as well put his last few dollars to use. “We can go somewhere. At least it’ll give us an excuse to avoid my parents.”

* * *

“You know,” Craig said, eyebrows climbing into the stratosphere as he watched the Whistlin’ Willy’s mascot dance away from their table after demanding they whistle for their pizza, “this really wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“What?” Tweek asked, laughing. “You don’t have places like this in Denver?”

“Cowboy-themed Chuck E. Cheese rip-offs owned by a shitty weed company? No, I guess I missed out on that experience.”

“The weed company didn’t _always_ own it.” Tweek pulled a slice of pizza from the tray to his plate. It wasn’t like they sold weed here, but the newly sanctioned off adults’ corner was full of officially licensed Tegridy Farms merchandise that marked the restaurant as one of Randy Marsh’s acquisitions.

“And why is the logo a fucking towel? What does that have to do with selling weed?”

Tweek, too busy biting into his pizza to answer, shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know beyond old white men having weird ideas about stoner culture.

Craig sighed like the failure in logic was going to haunt him for days to come, finally moving to grab a slice for himself. “Is the food really good or something?”

“Nope,” Tweek said, swallowing. “It tastes like cheesy cardboard. It hasn’t changed a bit since I was a kid. Our whole baseball team used to get dragged here after every one of our games.”

Gingerly, Craig bit into his slice. Craig kind of always looked unimpressed, but his lips curled in a way that suggested he agreed with Tweek’s assessment. “So… what, is being here really nostalgic for you or something?”

“Are you kidding? We _hated_ baseball. Having to eat shitty food afterwards just made it even worse.”

“Then I give up,” Craig said. He leaned back in his seat, watching as a couple of shrieking elementary schoolers went running past their table on the way to the arcade machines. “Why’d you pick this place?”

Tweek put the remains of his pizza down and reached across the table for a napkin. “It was the only restaurant I could think of where I could be sure we wouldn’t run into any more of my old friends.”

“Oh.” Craig said, looking away so sharply it was almost a flinch.

“It’s not because I’m embarrassed to be seen with you or anything!” Tweek said quickly. If anything, the opposite should have been true. Hell, Craig should have been ashamed to be associated with this entire town. “I just don’t wanna make keeping our story straight more complicated than it already is.”

Tweek had compromised their cover once by blabbing to David, he didn’t need to give himself any opportunities to make it worse. And maybe, more selfishly, he didn’t want Craig to see _all_ the skeletons in his closet. Reliving an old rejection on top of already dealing with Richard and Helen’s eccentricities had left Tweek feeling raw enough.

“Yeah, Tweek.” Craig stirred his straw through his cup of ice water, his tone clipped but thick with tension at the same time. “I get it.”


End file.
